


'Ghost Hunter' is Too Bravo Channel

by lilac_one, strangecobwebs



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Ghosthunters AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilac_one/pseuds/lilac_one, https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangecobwebs/pseuds/strangecobwebs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Frank finally opens the ballroom in the hotel he's inherited from his aunt, he expects it to be in bad shape. He isn't at all expecting it to look like it does. Luckily, Mikey's brother Gerard has just the expertise necessary to solve their problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Ghost Hunter' is Too Bravo Channel

**Author's Note:**

> lilac_one: First and foremost, I have all the gratitude and appreciation for my dearest strangecobwebs. It was her idea to sign up for BBB and finally do something with the idea riverlight and I tossed around after walking by Hotel Frank in San Francisco in January 2011. Without C's push, this never, ever would have done anything other than languish on my hard drive as a 4500 word WIP. She's a trouper of unbelievable magnitude, soldiering through a broken elbow that made writing with capitals impossible to make the whole story so much more than it would have been had I been writing alone. And thanks to her, I can now say I've written 2000 words riding in a car to and from a Cobra Starship concert. Thanks, sweetie! You're the BEST! Also, WE DID IT! 25,000 WORDS! \o/
> 
> We both thank the incomparable brooklinegirl for her amazing beta work. She wouldn't let us take the lazy way out and identified all the tweaks, big and small, to made this tighter, less embarrassing (it's pare, not pear), and just better. She also provided invaluable technical assistance in the posting process, without which lilac_one might possibly now be bald. We'd also like to thank the fantastic mistresscurvy, who did the final read-through and made some crucial catches. Thanks, ladies! You're rockstars!
> 
> Title from a comment by monkeypie, who provided crucial cheerleading in the face of dispairishness.
> 
>    
>  **Bonus Materials**  
> 
> **Art**
> 
> [He caught it with his face.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/454514) by matchbox_bones
> 
> **Fanmixes**
> 
> [Between the Shadow & the Soul](http://archiveofourown.org/works/452979) by truthismusic
> 
> [Cheek to Cheek](http://archiveofourown.org/works/452991) by heartsdesire456

Frank absently twirled the key on his desk, eyes resting on the photo of Aunt Francie on the wall above him. A vague sense of apprehension tickled at his spine whenever he thought about the locked room, but he really couldn't put it off any longer. The last guests should have been checking out, leaving the small inn empty for the annual two-week maintenance session timed to coincide with what Aunt Francie had affectionately dubbed "The Dead Zone," and the rest of the world generally called the first weeks of September.

It would be Frank's first Dead Zone without Aunt Francie.

The phone rang, startling him out of his reverie, the light on the console identifying the call origin as the front desk.

"Hey, Mikes."

"The last room just checked out. Bob's meeting us outside the ballroom in five minutes."

"Guess it's show time."

"Yup. Now get your ass down there."

"Yeah, yeah."

Frank hung up, and with a last glance at the photo, pocketed the key and walked out of his office.

***

Frank took a deep breath, and then another, eyes glued to the elaborately carved doors before them. "It's time, right?"

"Mmm hmm," Mikey agreed, his chin digging into Frank's shoulder as he nodded, the hum of his response reverberating against Frank's back.

Frank bounced a couple of times and stepped away from Mikey.

"Just a sec." Bob stopped him with a hand on the shoulder, leaning around him to squirt WD-40 into the lock. Frank and Mikey both stared at him.

"What?" he shrugged. "It hasn't been opened since Fr... a while. You know, months. I'm the facilities manager. It's my job to think of these things."

Frank beamed at him. "How would I survive without you?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. With practiced ease, Bob sidestepped the incoming hug, turned Frank back towards the ballroom, and gave him a tiny push. "Open the damn door, already. If Miss Francie were still around, she'd be kicking your ass."

"If Aunt Francie were still around, I wouldn't be standing here," retorted Frank, but he drew the ornate key from his pocket and slipped it into the keyhole. It turned easily, the bolt sliding open with a quiet snick. Frank could feel Mikey and Bob crowding behind him. With another deep breath, he pushed open the doors. And froze, Mikey and Bob pressed behind him.

"Holy shit," breathed Mikey.

"You can say that again," said Bob softly.

A wave of muffled sound met them, the strains of "In the Mood" and the chatter and clink of a busy club reached them as though through a wall of water. At tables around the perimeter, couples and groups drank and laughed. Several of the men were in old-fashioned military uniforms, the women in shirtdresses with wide shoulders and belted waists. On the stage at the opposite end of the room, a full band played for the crowd on the dance floor. The scene before them shimmered and flickered like an out-of-tune tv.

No one seemed to notice the three men rooted in the doorway.

Frank came back to himself as Mikey tugged Bob and him gently back into the hall. In an instant, Bob pulled the doors closed and Frank relocked them. When he turned around, Mikey already had his phone to his ear.

"Hey, Gee," he said, his voice betraying no sign of the bizarre sight he'd viewed only moments before. "I have a job for you."

***

Frank kicked his chair into yet another rotation, and started playing the opening riff of "Over the Hills and Far Away" for the he-didn't-know-how-many-th time, only to come to an abrupt halt.

"Dude, you have got to stop before I throw the chair out the window. With you in it."

Frank tipped his head back to look up at Bob looming over him. "I can see up your nose."

Bob grabbed Frank's guitar out of his hands with one hand and raised the other, but Frank pushed back from his desk, sending the chair rolling away from the swat Bob aimed at the back of his head. He came to a rest against the love seat where Mikey had curled up to look out the window overlooking the front of the inn.

"Is he here yet?" Frank clambered over Mikey to peer down to the drive. "Why isn't he here yet?"

"Get off me, you spazz," Mikey griped, ineffectively shoving at Frank. "They'll get here when they get here, so calm the fuck down."

Frank pushed at Mikey until he was comfortably nestled into his side. "Considering my fucking ballroom is fucking haunted by a fuckload of ghosts, I think I'm pretty fucking calm."

Bob snorted from his perch on Frank's desk, idly tapping a rhythm on the body of the guitar.

Frank narrowed his eyes at him. "Tijuana '01."

"Fine," Bob conceded. "But on the Frank scale of asleep to flying-to-pieces, you're at about a 9."

"Fuck off."

"Guys," Mikey interrupted. "They're here."

Frank stilled for an instant, then pushed off the couch, knees and elbows flying, to dart out the door.

"Ouch, you fucker. That was my kidney!" Mikey called after him.

"Don't be a pussy!" he yelled back, already halfway down the hall.

Frank could picture the exasperated glance Bob and Mikey exchanged as they followed him to greet the infamous Gerard Way, Ghost Hunter.

***

Frank paused at the bottom of the steps and took a deep breath. "Calm. I'm calm. I'm calm," he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and pushed the ends behind his ears, tugged his shirt hem down, and stepped into the lobby. Above him, he could hear Bob and Mikey entering the stairwell as the door closed behind him.

Forcing himself not to run again, Frank rounded the corner into the lobby and headed directly to the front door. It opened before he got there, and a man so loaded down with bags and equipment that only a frizzy mop of curly hair was visible above them stumbled in.

Frank rushed over. "Hi, I'm Frank. Thanks for coming. Let me help you," he said, taking a couple of padded bags and a cardboard box off the tower in the man's arms, and in the process, revealing a broad face with dancing eyes and a bright smile framed by a truly impressive 'fro.

"Thanks, man. I'm Ray Toro. I work with Gerard," he said, placing the rest of his load on the reception desk and floor, Frank following suit.

"Ray, my _man_!" Mikey shouted as he and Bob entered the lobby.

Ray's face broke into a wide grin. He pulled Mikey into bear hug. "Long time, no see. You ready to give up the boring life of hotel management to join us ghost hunting again? We still haven't found anyone as good with audio capture as you."

Mikey stepped back with a laugh. "Naw, I'm good where I am. Now where's my sad excuse for a brother?"

"Right here," came a voice from the door. "Don't be a douche. Help me before I drop something and Ray is forced to kill me for damaging his toys."

"They're not toys," Frank heard Ray mutter.

Mikey met his brother halfway, taking just enough of his burden that they could give each other a one armed hug. Over Mikey's shoulder, Frank caught a glimpse of pale skin underneath some seriously tangled black hair and giant bug-eye sunglasses.

Gerard mumbled something into Mikey's neck, eliciting a small laugh and push away. "Fuck off. Now let me introduce you. This is Frank. He owns this place, and that's Bob."

Gerard gently set his cargo down and extended his hand to each of them in turn.

"His title is technically Facilities Manager, but we call him MacGyver."

"Don't be an ass, Frank," Bob said, as they shook hands all around.

Gerard pushed his glasses up onto his head, in the process pulling his hair back to reveal piercing eyes, sharp cheekbones, and almost delicate nose and lips. He was fairly stunning in a way that momentarily distracted Frank from his worry over the ballroom.

As Gerard looked around the lobby, Frank tried to see it through his eyes. The space wasn't huge, but was full of light from the multitude of windows, accented by spots of jewel tones where the sun came through the three stained glass sections. A couch and a couple of oversized chairs beckoned invitingly from their spot clustered around a low table in front of the fireplace. The front desk sat opposite, the wood smooth and shiny with age.

"It's really nice, exactly like I pictured from Mikey's description," Gerard said. "But, well, kind of empty."

Frank laughed. "Yeah, well, we didn't take any bookings for this week and next so we could do some maintenance and deal with the ballroom. We thought it was just in serious need of rehab. We really hadn't expected ghosts. I hope we can get it resolved fast, because we're supposed to be at capacity when we reopen. And there's a bride who's really pushing to do her wedding here like her grandparents did, and obviously that can't happen if the ballroom is already...occupied."

Gerard smiled at him. "We'll certainly do our best to help you out, right, Ray?" Gerard shot a glance at Ray and started to laugh. Ray's hair was standing nearly straight out of his head in all directions.

"Fuck you," Ray grumbled, digging around in his pocket for a hair band. He pulled his hair into a rough ponytail at the base of his neck. "The energy is this place is exceptionally strong."

"Wait a second," Bob said. "You can detect ghosts with your hair?! That's awesome!"

Ray looked at Bob suspiciously. "Not ghosts, per se. More like...paranormal energy."

"It's like a supernatural antenna," Gerard chimed in.

"No lie. That is seriously cool," Bob said, looking impressed.

"Not to be rude, or anything, but how 'bout I let you guys dump your stuff in your rooms and then I can take you to the ballroom?" said Frank, reaching over the desk to grab the envelope containing Ray and Gerard's room keys.

"Not rude at all," Mikey said, snatching the envelope from Frank. "I'm sure Gerard's dying to assess the situation. In fact, I can't believe he stopped to introduce himself instead of rushing right over there."

"Hey, now. You trying to make me happy you ditched us?" Gerard grumbled good-naturedly as they collected the gear and moved to the elevators.

Mikey didn't crack a smile. "You're on to me."

Frank grinned as the elevator doors closed on the bickering brothers, Ray standing behind them with affection written all over his face.

***

"Hmm," Gerard said as soon as the ballroom doors swung open. Nothing had changed since the first time Frank, Mikey, and Bob saw it. "Your ballroom is definitely a locus of psi-energy. I've never seen such a strong focal point."

Bob looked as bewildered as Frank felt.

Mikey caught their shared glance. "That's Gee's technobabble way of saying that your ballroom's haunted and it's the most obvious he's seen," he translated.

"Oh. Well. Duh, kind of. I mean, no offense, but..." Frank ran out of words so he flailed his arm a little at the scene in front of them.

Ray already had the video camera out and was panning the room. "They don't show up on a video recording," Ray reported. "But there is faint audio. I'd like to take some readings, see if there are any particular hot spots."

"I can do audio," offered Mikey.

"I knew you missed us," Gerard said smugly. 

Mikey smirked. "Did not. Just helping since Ray thinks I'm the best."

"Well, you are. I know you're happy here and all, but we do miss you. It'll be great working together again." Gerard smiled, and ruffled Mikey's hair. Ignoring Mikey's squawk of protest, he neatly dodged the flick at his ear as he turned to Bob and Frank. "So as far as you know, they've never tried to communicate with you? Or shown signs of malicious intent?"

"Not that I know of," Frank replied. "But none of us have really gone in there. It's been locked as long as I can remember, and growing up Aunt Francie told me it was in bad repair and I shouldn't go in because she didn't want me to plummet through the rotten floorboards to my death."

"She would have warned us if she thought it was bad news. She wouldn't have put us in danger," Bob added thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry. Did you not hear the part about _plummeting to my death_?" Frank asked. "I think she did try to warn us."

"No," Bob said slowly. "That was how she kept _you_ out of the room. She just told me and Mikey that it was in crappy condition and that one day maybe she'd restore it if she ever won the lottery."

"Okay, then," Gerard said, taking the lead. "Proceed with caution, all of you. And no one comes in here alone, just to be safe. Frank and Bob, I'm sure you've got better ways to spend your time than watching us. We'll find you when we have a better handle on the situation."

"No fucking way." Frank crossed his arms. "They're my problem and I'm staying."

Bob crossed his arms, too. "There's no way I'm going anywhere. Give me a job or something, 'cause I'm not leaving."

Gerard, Ray, and Mikey had a quick, freaky nonverbal conversation that seemed to Frank to consist mostly of facial tics and overly expressive eyebrow movement.

"Bob, you're with me," Ray said after moment, handing him a heavy-looking black leather case.

Bob slung the strap over his shoulder. "Great. What are we doing?"

"We're going to get the initial energy readings in here. You're carrying in the navitometer, which detects and records background energy. We'll move through the room systematically to gather our data. Please try not to jar the meter. It's kind of sensitive," Ray explained.

"I'll do my best," Bob said. "Where do you want to start?"

"Far left corner, opposite the stage. We'll work our way back to the door. As soon as I get this damn thing untangled..." Ray was working on a mess of several power cords. "Dammit, Gerard," he muttered under his breath.

"Okay, Frankie, you get to be my assistant," Mikey said, shouldering his own bag and mic and shoving a second mic into Frank's hand. "We're doing audio readings, so even though it might kill you, try to be quiet."

"Ha fucking ha."

"Stick close to me. We're also going to do a sweep of the room. Just move your mic gently side-to-side, like this, as we go," Mikey demonstrated.

"What are you going to do, Gerard?" asked Frank.

"I'm going to observe the phenomenon and make some drawings, since the camera can't capture any images." Gerard was already fumbling around his bag, emerging with a sketchpad and pencil.

"Let's go," Mikey said. "We'll start in the opposite corner from Ray and Bob to minimize interference. I also want to see if the resonance is different up on stage with the band."

"It's going to be tough to go around all of the ghosts, though, isn't it?" Bob asked.

Mikey, Ray, and Gerard shared a shit-eating grin. "Nope," answered Mikey. "We just go through them."

Frank couldn't suppress a shudder. "That's. Just. How does that work, exactly?"

"Although we can see them, it's all just concentrated energy. They don't have true physical manifestation. So we just," Gerard made his right pointer and index finger walk across his left palm, "go. They can't feel it."

"And it doesn't piss them off?" Bob asked.

Gerard started to shake his head. "N-"

"Wait, _they_ can't feel it? But _we_ can?" Frank's voice sounded higher to his own ears than he necessarily felt comfortable with, but, as he kept telling himself, these were not normal circumstances.

Again, Mikey, Ray, and Gerard did that disconcerting thing with the eyebrows and twitches, but all three seemed to be trying hard not to laugh.

This time Mikey spoke up. "That's where things get interesting. Every person has some potential to interact with the Other Side. Gerard and I come from a long line of, well, I guess you could call us mediums, but family history isn't always predictive. Gee takes after our grandmother, Elena, so he's got a lot more sensitivity than I do. And Ray hasn't got any relatives that we know of who were aware of this type of stuff, but you saw his hair earlier."

Ray smiled. "I'm the first in my family so far. But Mikey's point--and nice job there channeling Gee on a ramble, dude--is that we don't know if you'll feel anything or not."

"Please define 'feel,'" Bob said, cradling the navitometer to his chest.

Once again, that damn look. Frank was starting to feel like punching someone in the face.

"Wish I could tell you exactly, but like Mikey said, it depends on how sensitive you are. Some people feel nothing. Lots of people feel a slight temperature drop, but that's pretty much it even if they're right on top of one. When I walk through manifestations, it feels cold and clammy, but only for a second. If I'm lucky, it comes with a burst of emotion, too," Gerard said. "Except Elena. Her spirit is always around somewhere, and I can see her and talk to her, I guess because we were so close when she was alive."

"I don't really feel much besides the temperature drop, but you know," Ray said, gesturing towards his hair. "Depending on how it reacts, I can kind of interpret general feelings. It's real good at picking up hostility. Saved our asses more than once," he said with a grin.

Frank eyed Mikey speculatively. "And what, exactly, have you been holding back from us, Mikey?"

"I feel the temperature drop, but I can also kind of hear them, I guess. It's like they emit a radio transmission, but it's not really tuned in. Sometimes I get actual words or a strong emotion, but that's rare. Usually it's just a weird hum, kind of like static but not as discordant. Stop looking at me like I'm a freak," Mikey said.

Frank shrugged. "I don't think you're a freak. At least no more than I always have. "

"Fuck you."

"You wish. " Frank pushed himself off the wall. "Let's do this."

"Bring it," added Bob. "I want to see if I can give up my day job and become a badass motherfucking ghost hunter."

Ray laughed as he led them, finally, through the open ballroom door. "We prefer Paranormal Specialists."

"Yeah," Gerard chimed in. "Ghost hunter is too cable tv. Now let's get going, motherfuckers."

Frank trailed after Mikey toward the corner he had chosen to begin taking readings, instinctively dodging around any apparition in his path. Bob was doing the same thing, and Frank imagined he and Mikey looked just as ridiculous as Bob and Ray did, Ray heading beeline for his start point as if the room were empty, and Bob weaving around behind him like an intoxicated duckling.

Frank looked back at Mikey and let out a shout of surprise. One of the ghosts had gesticulated his martini right through Frank's chest. Frank didn't know what scared him more, the fact that there was a motherfucking _arm_ coming out of his motherfucking _chest_ , or that he hadn't felt it _at all_.

Before he had time to so much as blink, the ghost lifted his glass to his mouth, leaving Frank's chest once again his own. And leaving him vaguely disappointed that he didn't appear to have an iota of sensitivity. Go figure.

Mikey had stopped, presumably when Frank shouted. After the arm receded, Mikey raised an eyebrow at Frank. Frank shook his head.

Before Mikey could ask an actual question, Bob exclaimed, "Fucking hell, that's cold!" Frank saw a waiter bearing a tray full of glasses finish walking through him.

"You guys okay?" Gerard called from the stage.

Bob shrugged. "Fine. Nothing like the freezing cold of the dead to jumpstart your body," he said plainly.

If Bob could feel it and not freak out, then Frank could, too. Steeling his nerve, he walked right through the specter of two women chatting. He went through the table, too, for good measure, focusing intently on how he felt as he passed through them.

What he felt was not a thing. No iciness, no emotions, not even the slightest temperature change. 

"So?" Mikey asked, coming to halt in their corner.

"Nothing," Frank answered. "Guess I'll be leaving the heavy lifting to the rest of you."

"And that's different from normal how?"

"Douchenozzle."

"Douchenozzle with work to do. Let's get started."

Frank followed Mikey, doing his best to copy the movements of his mic. It didn't take long to fall into a rhythm, and he was surprised by how quickly he got used to moving through the ghosts. By the fourth or fifth time, it stopped being freaky, and then Frank was just bored. He found himself checking around the room again. Gerard was sitting on the stage, hunched over his sketch pad and drawing furiously, mouthing the words along with the singer, toe tapping out the beat. Frank wasn't too involved in his own task to admire the way his hair fell across his cheek. Or the way Gerard absent-mindedly brushed it back. 

Pulling his eyes away, he tracked Bob and Ray, almost directly opposite them, engrossed in their work. Frank watched them for a moment, noting with amusement that Ray's ponytail seemed to be pointing to his left and that Bob's face scrunched up in a kind of hilarious way every time he walked through an apparition. It didn't get past him that they were all moving in time to the music.

Mikey chose that minute to stop, and Frank nearly ricocheted off his back, stopping at the last second before contact. He was already so used to walking through the ghosts, he almost forgot that he couldn't walk through real people. Mikey gave him a glare. Frank shrugged his apology and returned his focus to his task.

It really was slow and monotonous work. It didn't take long for Frank's attention to start wandering again. He avoided looking at Gerard so he didn't get too distracted. Bob and Ray were working their way in the opposite direction. Weirdly, Ray's ponytail was aimed to his right. The farther he moved away from the middle toward the wall, like a compass needle, the more it turned to maintain its orientation.

Not wanting to screw up the audio recording, Frank poked Mikey in the back. When Mikey turned around to glare at him, Frank jerked his head towards Ray and Bob, emphatically moving his eyebrows in hopes Mikey would be able to understand him with the same accuracy as he could read his brother and Ray.

Mikey watched for moment, then looked questioningly at Frank.

Frank gestured for him to keep watching. Sure enough, as Ray and Bob looped around to begin the next pass, Ray's ponytail swung around too, maintaining its aim toward the center of the room.

Silently, Mikey switched off his recorder, pulled a piece of chalk out of one of the pockets of his bag and marked their spot on the floor. He waited until Ray and Bob swung around again, then mimed turning off a knob at Ray.

Ray cocked his head inquisitively, but fiddled with the bag Bob held. After a moment, he said, "What's up?"

That caught Gerard's attention. "Yeah, what's up?" he echoed as hopped off the stage and came to join them.

"Ray's hair. It's pointing toward something over here," Frank blurted out.

Ray set his equipment down and began walking across the room toward Mikey, Frank, and Gerard. They watched in fascination as he moved around the room in concentrically smaller circles so they could pinpoint the area that attracted Ray's hair.

When Frank's phone beeped to notify him an incoming text, he was pleased to note he wasn't the only one startled. He fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Crap. That's the painters. I've got to go meet them. The rest of the workmen should be here soon, so I doubt I'm going to be able to make it back in the next few hours. You've got to tell me everything I miss," Frank said, handing his mic over to Gerard. "Text me if you need me."

***

Frank dropped his head on his desk. His stomach was rumbling angrily in protest of its emptiness and his neck and back were a giant stress knot from both the furniture moving he'd been doing and tension over what was happening in the ballroom in his absence. His phone had remained disturbingly, distractingly silent since he'd left to do his actual job, with the exception of the "under control" response he'd gotten when he'd finally broken down and texted Mikey a couple of hours ago.

He was too tired to even react when a coffee mug and plate were plopped down on the desk by his head.

"You alive?" Mikey asked, his bony finger prodding Frank in the back of the head.

"No. Go away."

"But not all the way dead. Good thing Miracle Spencer has the cure."

Once Mikey mentioned their chef, the delicious aromas wafting from the corner of his desk finally penetrated his brain. Frank reluctantly sat up and clutched the mug to his chest. He inhaled the steam before taking a deep draught.

"Hey, hey. Eat something with that or your stomach will make you pay," Mikey admonished. "Spencer spent the day trying out all these new recipes, so we have an epic taste test for dinner. He sent up some starters for you. You skipped lunch, didn't you? He went hunting for you after he fed us, but he couldn't find you."

"I wasn't in one place long enough to even know where I was myself," replied Frank, setting down his cup and dragging the plate in front of him.

Mikey stood over him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Eat."

"Yes, mom." Frank dutifully picked up a puff pastry thing off the plate. It was crispy and flaky and filled with the most delicious something he ever tasted. "Oh, man. Spencer has outdone himself," he said, shoving another one in his mouth.

Mikey wrinkled his nose. "You're gross."

Frank chewed with his mouth open, spraying some flakes down the front of his shirt. "Fuck you."

Mikey just raised an eyebrow at him. "That kind of proves my point."

The desk phone rang before Frank could retort. "Hehro," he answered, hastily swallowing.

"Soup's on. Get your ass down here," Spencer ordered.

"Is that any way to speak to your boss?"

Frank could practically hear the eye-roll through the phone. Sometimes Frank worried Spencer was going to damage himself with the amount of time his eyes spent moving around their sockets. "I'm serving in five minutes whether you're here or not. Brendon's already at the table."

"You do not play fair," grumbled Frank. "I'll be right down. And if you start without Mikey and me, I'm letting Brendon be your sous chef when we reopen."

He dropped the phone back in its cradled on Spencer's outraged squawk.

***

Spencer was just mean. The way he was bossing everyone around and setting annoying rules was way overstepping his bounds as Executive Chef. Frank wanted to put his foot down, but he knew Spencer wasn't lying when he said he'd take away their dinner if they tried to talk shop while they ate. He wanted their complete attention on the meal, like he was actually depending on their feedback to make menu decisions, when they all knew he'd just make whatever Brendon liked most.

The food was, as expected, outstanding, but Frank couldn't properly enjoy it. Feeling like you were vibrating out of your skin wasn't conducive to appreciating the complexity of a meal.

Mikey, Gerard, and Ray made for a lively table with their catching up, and managed to do so while including Bob, Brendon, and Spencer in their conversation. Frank knew he'd be kicking himself later for not seizing the opportunity to get some dirt on Mikey, but even that temptation wasn't enough to get him to divert his brain from thinking about the ballroom.

Finally, dessert plates were scraped clean (of something ridiculously chocolatey rich), and coffee cups were refilled.

Mikey poked Gerard. "You want to put Frank out of his misery now?"

Gerard took a long swallow of his coffee. "I guess we should."

Ray looked at Frank and jerked his head towards Brendon and Spencer, silently asking if it was okay for them to sit in on the conversation. 

"This is about the haunted ballroom, right?" Brendon asked, looking excited. "It's crazy in there! So many ghosts. Even _Spencer_ could see them, and he doesn't even believe in ghosts."

Frank's jaw dropped. "How in the hell do you know about that?"

The guilty look on Brendon's face said he knew he should have kept his mouth shut. "Um… Well, okay, one time, not too long after I started working here, I sort of went exploring. You know, make sure I knew my way around and all. I heard the music, so I found the backstage door," he finished with a small shrug.

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Wasn't that door locked?"

Brendon bit his lip and wouldn't look at Frank. "…No?" he said weakly.

Frank sighed. He was suddenly very tired. "Fine, whatever. Since you know, you might as well stick around for the rest of this."

"So," Ray said, pulling a notebook out from under his chair and setting it on the table, "we finished taking the audio and energy reads. I'm gonna get them uploaded but we got a lot, so that's gonna take some time. I'll set the transfer up tonight, so I can get started on the analysis first thing in the morning. Maybe I'll have something solid by tomorrow afternoon."

"I can help with audio," said Mikey. "That should speed things up."

Gerard beamed at him. "Thanks, Mikey. You really are the best."

"And I can use all the help I can get," said Ray.

Gerard said, "I'll get started on research in the morning. Frank, I could use your help figuring out where to start. I mean, it's obvious World War II-era, but why? Can you think of any reason or connection to the war that would explain why a piece of it is manifesting in your ballroom?"

Frank thought about it for a second. "Nothing specific. I mean, I know the inn was around back then. It's been in the family since 1896. In the '40s, Aunt Francie's dad was in charge, but she was already helping him out. She used to tell me stories. The only thing I can think of is that Aunt Francie's husband, Tony, served in the war and he died somewhere overseas."

"It's a place to start, anyway," said Gerard. "Any idea what year he died?"

"Nope. But I have some of Francie's papers and stuff. Maybe there's something in there."

Gerard nodded. "Any little thing could help. It'd be great if we could narrow the time frame. World War II is huge span to investigate. And another thing. I know it's a long shot, but I have a bunch of sketches I did today. You could take a look at them and see if anything rings a bell."

"Sure. Couldn't hurt. Give 'em here." Frank answered.

Gerard retrieved his sketch book from the table behind theirs and handed it over. Frank flipped it open. The first page was an overview of the stage. Frank was no artist, but the picture seemed way too detailed to qualify as a sketch. He scoured each page and wracked his brain for anything familiar in any of them, totally tuning out the conversation. Jesus, Gerard was a good artist.

Frank was abruptly pulled back in by Brendon as he neared the end of the book.

"You know," Brendon suddenly said, "we might be able to use the music to pinpoint the year. It shouldn't be too difficult to make a list of the songs they're playing. Then we can look up what years they were popular."

Bob, Ray, and Gerard just stared.

"That's actually...well, kind of brilliant," Mikey said.

Spencer pulled Brendon close and kissed his cheek. "That's my boy. I bet you could list most of the songs they play off the top of your head, couldn't you?"

Brendon looked down at the table. "Yeah, well, a lot of it was familiar. My parents love big band so I grew up listening to it."

"And you should hear him play it," said Spencer proudly. "He hears something once and he can pretty much play it by ear, on piano, guitar, cello, bass. He's never met an instrument he can't figure out."

Brendon grinned, "Don't be modest, Spencer Smith. You kick ass on the drums."

"Mikey told us you have a music space. I hope we can see it sometime," Ray said.

Gerard added, "Maybe we could jam. Has Mikey told you about our high school band?" 

Bob smiled. "Mostly, he said you guys kind of sucked."

"We really kind of did," Gerard agreed with a smile. "But it was fun."

"It was," Ray said. "But back to the matter at hand." He slid his notebook and pen to Brendon. "You mind writing down the songs you recognized?"

"Not at all, but I don't know all of them. I'm gonna need to spend some time in there listening to get a complete list. And I still might not know all of them."

"Not a problem, just give us what you can. But don't go in there alone," Gerard said. "Not that we have any reason to think it's dangerous, but safety first."

Spencer said, "Got it covered."

"Thanks. So I guess we have a plan," said Ray.

"What about me?" asked Bob.

"You could do something crazy, like tackle the list of things we have to get repaired before we reopen," Frank said with a smirk.

"Or I could try to figure out why the ghosts are so much colder near where Ray's hair was freaking out than the rest of the room," Bob shot back.

"Huh," said Mikey. "I didn't really notice that."

Ray said, "Neither did I, but I don't tend to pay attention to how cold it is when I'm in collecting mode. Tomorrow we should try to gather some empirical data."

"Do you have a gadget to measure that?" asked Bob.

Ray nodded. "A very sophisticated device. They're kind of hard to find. It's called," he leaned forward conspiratorially, "an air temperature thermometer."

"Fuck you," Bob said over everyone's laughter.

"Seriously, though. It is a scientific one. Most household air thermometers register changes in increments of tenths of degrees and this one measures in hundredths. But it's interesting that you noticed a difference across the room," Ray said, exchanging another one of those annoying glances with Gerard and Mikey. 

Bob shrugged. "I don't know, just. The closer we got to where Ray's hair spazzed, the colder the air felt and the colder the ghosts felt."

"Okay, so you know how I can hear stuff, and Gerard can feel stuff, and Ray's hair can sense stuff? Well, I'm audio sensitive, Gerard is emotion sensitive, Ray is energy sensitive, and apparently you're temperature sensitive," Mikey explained.

"Alrighty then. Not really sure how that's any help, but okay."

Gerard said, "Well, you should probably be the one to take the temperature measurements. You might catch something the rest of us would miss."

Frank shook his head sadly. "You better hand over the List o' Shit To Do, Bob. You're not going to have time to get started on it anytime soon, and we really do have to get it done." He pushed back from the table. "Which means another early morning for me. Thank you all for your help, but I'm going to get cleaned up and try to get some sleep. See you in the morning."

***

Frank lay in bed thinking about Aunt Francie, Uncle Tony, and the damn ghosts. He felt like the connection between them all should be obvious, but every time he tried to think about it directly, it skittered off into the shadows of his mind. And he was in such a state that he really couldn't _not_ think about it even though he was pretty sure he'd have a better shot of figuring it out if he wasn't focused on it.

He rolled over and tried visualizing a plain white wall.

He turned on his side, punched his pillows into a more comfortable shape, and tried counting sheep.

He was contemplating a warm glass of milk even though he knew it would probably make him sick, just to try to turn off his brain, and had actually gotten as far as getting up to look for a hoodie before common sense kicked in. He grabbed one anyway, pulled it on over his t-shirt, slid on a pair of sweats, and went to his office instead.

He swiveled side to side in his desk chair, staring at his closet door, then reached for his guitar, fingers absently slipping between random chords. He knew if he just got up, took those few short steps, he could get out the boxes of Aunt Francie's things that he hadn't been able to bring himself to sort through since she died. And chances were high that once he started looking, he'd start to find, if not answers, at least some puzzle pieces. But still he sat, unwilling or unable, he wasn't sure which, to take those steps.

The tap at the door nearly sent him tumbling to the floor.

"Frank, it's Gerard. Can I come it?" Gerard said just loud enough to be heard.

Hand to his heart, Frank turned his chair back to the door. "Sure."

"Couldn't sleep?" Gerard asked, opening the door and leaning against the jamb. His t-shirt was so stretched out at the neck that one shoulder was almost hanging out. The logo on it was too faded to tell what it was. His pajama pants had the Bat-symbol printed all over them.

"Not so much," Frank shrugged. "Couldn't shut off my brain, you know?"

"I hate when that happens."

"Why are you even up and down here at--" Frank glanced at the clock he had been so staunchly ignoring. "Three twelve a.m.?"

Gerard shrugged. "I don't sleep much, especially when Elena is hanging around bugging me. I heard the music, then saw the light on since I was kind of just wandering around, checking the rest of the place out. Is that okay?" He sounded like he only just realized it might not be.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Of course it's okay. Even if this place wasn't an inn, you're still here to help us out. I'd say you've got free rein of the place."

Gerard gave him a small smile. "Cool. So, you want company?" he asked, sounding hopeful, like he really wanted to stay and hang out.

Frank ran a hand through his hair and tucked it behind his ears. "What I want is to sleep, but since that doesn't seem to be happening, you could help me go through a couple of boxes Aunt Francie left in the closet over there. I have this feeling they might be important. I was just trying to psych myself up to finally go through them when you scared the shit out of me."

Gerard pushed himself away for the door and took the few steps to the closet. "You want me to get them or do you want to do it yourself?"

"You're there. You might as well grab them. They're on the top shelf."

"You mean the ones conveniently labeled 'Aunt Francie'?" Gerard asked, reaching towards them. His t-shirt rode up, revealing just how low his pajama bottoms were. It took Frank a second to realize that Gerard has asked him a question.

Frank jerked his eyes back up, grateful Gerard hadn't turned around and caught him. Then the question registered, and he couldn't help but smile just a little. "Those would be them."

Gerard carefully took first one, then the other, off the shelf and set them on the floor. "Where do you want to set up?"

"How about the couch? We can use the coffee table. And speaking of coffee." Frank dragged himself up, placed his guitar in its stand, and went over to the coffeemaker in the corner. If he was going to stay up, he may as well guarantee no sleep with more caffeine. "You want?"

"Yes, please," Gerard said so emphatically Frank couldn't keep from smiling again. On autopilot, he set a pot to brew.

By the time Frank poured them each a mug, Gerard had the boxes open and set one on the floor at each end of the loveseat. "Left or right?"

"Left, I guess," Frank answered. He sat, took a long swallow of his coffee and put it down. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, and pulled off the lid.

Resting on top was a fragile bouquet of dried flowers. When Frank went to take it out, he saw a chain and handkerchief, once white and now yellowed with age, wrapped around the stems. He lay the whole thing gently on the table before carefully unwinding the chain, Uncle Tony's dog tags hanging from it, setting it aside and unwrapping the cloth. Once he spread it out, he saw the monogram - AJM - and faded red lipstick kiss in the corner.

"I guess your aunt saved her wedding bouquet," Gerard said quietly.

"Looks like," Frank responded equally softly. He stared at it for a few minutes, mentally matching it with the bouquet Aunt Francie held in the wedding photo on the corner of his dresser in his room. He wondered if the handkerchief was the same one peeking neatly folded out of the top of Uncle Tony's suit jacket pocket in the same picture.

Pulling his gaze away, he reached for the stack of papers that had been under the flowers. These, too, were yellow with age. As he carefully flipped through them, he recognized the distinct scrawl on many of them as his aunt's. Skimming quickly, it dawned on him that he held his aunt and uncle's correspondence after Uncle Tony had been deployed in World War II. There was one page that stood out, the handwriting noticeably different.

_December 14, 1941_

Dear Francie,

I hope you won't think me impertinent for writing you like this, nor that what I have to say will cause you any more distress than I am sure you must be feeling. The opposite is in fact true: I hope what I share will bring you some small measure of comfort.

I know Tony told you that the same battle in which his arm was injured, my leg was as well. We were sent to the hospital at Pearl Harbor together.

Tony was awfully restless after his injury, and railed at the fact that his arm kept him from being productive when his legs worked perfectly well. He passed many an hour walking by the docks, talking to whatever crewmen he could find to press them about the workings of their ships.

On that fateful morning Monday last, Tony slipped from our room at dawn. I regret I was groggy from my pain medication and barely stirred, beyond registering he was going out again. That was the last time I saw him. From what I was told by one survivor, when the bombs started flying, Tony finagled his way onto a boat from the hospital ship Solace, and assisted in pulling out of the water those brave men who went overboard or were injured. I do not want to describe the horror of that day in any detail, but with the airplanes overhead and even the water on fire, it was dangerous work. It was only when the boat was offloading its injured onto the ship that anyone realized that Tony had been injured again. He had continued to aid in the rescue, even with only one functioning arm, although he had been losing blood at a terrifying rate. By the time they arrived at the hospital ship, it was too late.

Francie, I know it may be no comfort at all, but your husband died saving the lives of many others. His was of such character that the chance of saving even one man was worth the risk to his own safety. He is a true hero, and I hope the pride of knowing how he spent his last hours can take an iota out of the sting of his loss.

I am quite certain you are well aware of how much your husband adored you and have no need to hear it from me. It was obvious to everyone who ever saw you together, as I did at that last evening ashore, but maybe it will be of some consolation to know that everyone who was lucky enough to know Tony over here knew how he felt about you, too.

I am truly sorry for your loss. Tony will be deeply missed.

Sincerely,

Charlie Miller __

Frank finished reading and wordlessly handed the letter to Gerard to read for himself. He had never been in love the way Aunt Francie and Uncle Tony apparently had been, but now he could maybe understand why Aunt Francie hadn't ever remarried.

He returned the rest of the letters into the box unread. It felt like a violation to read them now, even though they were seventy years old and both the writers were gone. By the time he finished re-wrapping the handkerchief around the bouquet and returned the whole thing to the box, Gerard was done with the letter.

"Wow," he said. "That was..."

"Intense?" Frank supplied.

"Yeah, pretty much."

Frank picked up his coffee. "There are a lot more letters Tony and Francie wrote to each other. He must have saved hers so she got them back with the rest of his stuff. It doesn't feel right to read them, though, so we're not."

Gerard gave a half smile. "Agreed. Kind of an incredible story, huh? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What's in your box?"

Gerard pulled back the flaps and removed what looked like several photo albums. He set the stack on the coffee table, took the top one, and scooted back. He patted the couch next to him. "C'mere. We can look at them together."

Frank moved over and helped Gerard settle the album across their laps. It didn't quite lay flat, so Gerard closed the last inch between them to make it sit right. They began pouring over each photo, the ones in this album clearly taken during Tony's training. When they finished the first, Gerard changed it out for the second, which traced Tony and Francie's courtship and early marriage.

It was oddly relaxing on the couch with Gerard softly humming under his breath as they flipped through the albums. He had a nice voice, which Frank guessed he should have known, since Mikey had mentioned Gerard had been the lead singer for their band. It was a soothing accompaniment to the task at hand. Maybe Frank would be able to sleep soon.

***  
He woke with a start, unsure where he was or what had awakened him. He heard a snicker and whispering and half asleep or no, he'd recognize Mikey's laugh anywhere. The next thing he noticed was that his pillow was rising and falling gently. He forced his eyes open and realized his face was basically buried in Gerard's stomach and he had drooled on Gerard's thigh. He felt bad about that until he turned enough to see Gerard's face and realized he was drooling on the couch.

He flicked his middle finger up in the general direction of the door and struggled to sit up, wary of accidentally touching Gerard somewhere that could lead to lawsuits.

"Mikey, shut the fucking fuck up," Gerard mumbled as he stirred to consciousness. He sent an impressive slit-eyed death glare at Mikey, and at Bob and Brendon, too, who were standing behind him. "I know what you're thinking and you're wrong."

Mikey smiled innocently. Frank knew that look and didn't trust it. At all. From the way Gerard was rolling his eyes, Frank knew he didn't either.

Before Frank could muster a retort, Brendon piped up. "It's nearly ten. Spencer said if you want breakfast and real coffee instead of the shit you make in here, you need to come down. He wants to start on lunch and can't until you guys eat."

"Coffee," Gerard exhaled, eyes going glassy. He pushed himself to his feet. "Lead the way."

Grumbling under his breath, Frank followed them out.

***  
Frank left the painters in the lobby and detoured to the coffee pot to refill his mug. Before he pushed open the door, he heard the familiar irregular tap tap tap of Mikey drumming his fingers against the counter. He stopped for a second, trying to figure out what song Mikey had stuck in his head this time, before giving up and heading into the kitchen.

Except it wasn't Mikey. Frank hadn't really seen a family resemblance between Gerard and Mikey, but now it was obvious, with Gerard hunched over in the same position Mikey always did, tapping his fingers to the music in his head.

"What song?" Frank asked. He laughed a little at Gerard's jump and gasp.

"You scared the shit out of me! I was kinda," Gerard waved his arm around in some complicated gesture that Frank guessed was supposed to mean off in la-la land.

"Listening to a song in your head while you wait for coffee?" Frank supplied.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" Gerard grinned sheepishly and now that Frank had a second to appreciate it, holy shit, was Gerard gorgeous.

"Uh," Frank forgot what they were talking about for a second. Gerard's smile turned inquisitive, and right. Frank needed words. "Mikey does the exact same thing. Sometimes I try to figure out the song from his tapping, but it doesn't usually work."

"How bout this one?" Gerard said, changing up the rhythm to a regular tap tap TAP, tap tap TAP.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows that one. It's by those Queen dudes, right? 'Bohemian Rhapsody'?"

Gerard stared at him in disbelief.

Frank managed to keep a straight face for about ten seconds.

"Asshole," Gerard said good-naturedly.

"Coffee's ready," Frank said, smoothly hip-checking Gerard out of the way and grabbing the pot.

"Hey, you cut!"

"You snooze, you lose," Frank said smugly, doing his best to hold the carafe out of Gerard's reach without scalding either of them and determinedly ignoring how it felt to have Gerard pressed up against him as he grabbed for the pot.

"Keep that up and I'm going to have grounds to sue your ass for trauma in the workplace," said Mikey.

Gerard instantly stepped back and glared at him.

Frank laughed. "Like it's not traumatic for me that I have to look at your ugly face every day?"

Mikey shrugged. "You're the one who hired me."

"Whatever. Who wants coffee?" No sooner were the words out of his mouth than both Way brothers had their mugs out.

"Once your mug is full, out you go," said Spencer from behind them.

Gerard once again looked startled. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"Don't even ask," interjected Mikey. "Wherever he was, he was with Brendon. Is the kitchen even still sanitary?"

"The kitchen is totally sanitary. The pantry, however..." said Brendon as he wandered in from the general direction of the pantry.

"Spencer," said Frank firmly.

"Brendon's just yanking your chain. Do you really think I'd let him fuck around in my kitchen?"

Frank crossed his arms. " _Your_ kitchen?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My kitchen," Spencer answered, just as firmly. "Which all of you need to vacate if you plan on eating anything else today."

"My inn, my kitchen. But I'm lending it to you," said Frank as he quickly doctored his coffee. "And now I'm going to make repairs on my inn so we don't scare away guests who would like to eat your food."

"Gee and I have to get back to work anyway," Mikey said.

Frank asked "How's it going?"

"They can update you all they want," said Spencer, not giving Mikey or Gerard a chance to answer, "just _not in here_."

"Oh, hey," said Gerard as they left the kitchen, "Can I get another look at those photo albums? I've been in the ballroom all morning and there's some stuff I want to check on while it's still fresh in my mind."

"C'mon up with me and I'll get them for you. How's it going in there today? Still a party?"

"Same as before. I spent a lot of time looking at faces. A lot of them look familiar, but I'm not sure if it's because I saw them yesterday or if I recognize them from the photos."

Frank let them into his office. "Everything's still on the table. Have at it."

Gerard settled on the couch and dragged the nearest album onto his lap.

With his eyes focused on the photos, Frank couldn't help but notice how long Gerard's lashes were, so naturally that was when Bob burst in.

He glanced around. "What, now you have Gerard slacking off, too?"

"I'm not slacking. I'm working," muttered Gerard.

"And why are you blushing, Frank?"

"I'm not. My coffee's hot, is all. And why are you in here, Bob? You're supposed to be helping Ray."

Bob shot Frank a look that said Bob didn't believe him and wasn't thrown off by the intended misdirect. 

"I am helping Ray. He asked me to find Gerard to tell him the audio analysis was ready." He smirked at Frank. "Too bad you can't help, but you know, the toilet in 204 isn't going to fix itself."

"You guys do realize that I own this place, which makes me your boss. If anyone should be telling people what to do, it's me," said Frank in his most authoritarian voice.

Bob didn't buy it for a minute and, with a grin, said, "Well, today, _Boss_ , you're a plumber."

Frank crossed his arms. "And you're fired."

"Yeah, yeah. Go fix the toilet. The sooner you start, the sooner you'll finish."

Gerard snickered quietly.

"Shut up. I hate you both." And then he went to fix the toilet, because it really wouldn't fix itself.

***

By nine-thirty that night, Frank's to-do list for the day was all checked off, his belly was full of delicious food, and he was clean and dry. And completely wired. Even jerking off in the shower hadn't helped. His brain was full of the conversation that had taken up most of dinner. They had somehow gone from ghostly update--the latest music was from 1941, it was measurably colder in the center of the room, Gerard thought some of the spirits were also in the photo albums, tomorrow was a trip to city hall to look at records--to desert island books, music and comics, and if Frank wasn't already maybe nursing the teeniest, tiniest crush on Gerard, that conversation kind of solidified the fact that Gerard was a creepy motherfucker with fantastic taste. And therefore exactly Frank's type.

Only one thing was going to settle him down. Grabbing a hoodie, he slipped out the sliding door into the cool night air, closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar comforting blend of freesia, roses, and snapdragons blooming in the courtyard. When he could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders, he headed down the covered walkway to what the staff jokingly called the mancave. The structure had originally been a stable and then a garage, but when Frank realized that he couldn't play his guitar late at night without disturbing the guests, that Bob and Spencer sometimes really needed to beat the shit out of some drums so they wouldn't kill Frank or his staff or poison their guests, that sometimes the only thing that could keep Brendon from flying apart was a room full of instruments, and that Mikey could make it all come together on his bass, they'd renovated the space into a soundproof music room, a lounge area with a flat-screen, surround sound, and gaming system, and a screen porch opening into the courtyard.

Frank let himself in, went straight for his guitar, spent a second tuning it, turned his amp up loud, and began to warm up. When his fingers felt loose and flexible, he switched on the recording equipment. Over the years, he'd accumulated a shit-ton of partially completed songs. He knew himself and knew that the only way he'd make any progress on any of them was if he just stopped thinking and played wherever his fingers led. Later, he'd listen to what he recorded and see how it fit with whatever he already had. It took him longer than usual to slip into that headspace, but once he did, he was only vaguely aware of the tension leaving his body, replaced by the thrill of creating order out of the chaos of notes floating in his head.

It was a familiar experience, so he barely registered when a bass-line joined him, followed a few minutes later by drum and keyboard. Eventually the new depth of sound filtered in, and with a little grin, he flicked off the recorder, and switched into "Monday Morning Ant Brigade." Brendon, Spencer, and Mikey immediately followed, belting out the lyrics with him. He only looked up when he realized there were a couple of extra voices and another guitar part weaving around his. 

Ray had grabbed one of Brendon's guitars and was wailing away on it, his hair flying everywhere and magic pouring through his fingertips. Gerard was perched on the couch, eyes closed, switching off with Brendon who was melody and who took harmony. He was so incredibly stunning, Frank actually fumbled his part. He glanced around, hoping no one noticed, only to find Mikey smirking at him. He knew he'd be embarrassed about it later, because there was no way Mikey would let it slide, but for now, he was content to let the music take them where it would.

***

Frank thought for sure that after all the music and lack of rest the night before, he'd be relaxed enough to fall immediately to sleep. He was wrong. At first he couldn't get the last tune he and Ray were noodling around with out of his head. So he got up and took another shower, hoping the hot water would soothe him enough to drop off. By the time he got back in bed, he thought maybe it worked. Twenty minutes later, though, all the ghost stuff was racing through his mind again.

He'd brought the photo albums down to his room before dinner, and they seemed to be taunting him from his desk. Eventually, he gave up, turned on the light, and brought the photos back to his bed. He pored over every picture, closing his eyes after each one in an effort to make his mind a blank slate open to receiving the message from his hindbrain that he knew was lurking there. Instead, he flashed on images of Gerard - the sweep of his lashes over his cheeks, the look of joy on his face as he sang, the quirk of his lips as he listened to something Ray was telling him.

Tossing off the covers in frustration, he zipped on his sweatshirt, shoved his feet into a pair of shoes, grabbed his keys and barely restrained himself from slamming the door on his way out. He stomped to the ballroom and unlocked the doors. He paused, hand on the knobs, and gave brief thought to Gerard's admonishment not to go in alone, but considering he couldn't even feel a thing and no one else had sensed anything even vaguely ominous, he figured he wasn't in any danger. He threw open the doors.

The scene was unchanged. He chose a corner and began to methodically pace the room, ignoring how weird it was to literally walk through the ghosts without feeling a thing, and trying to examine each and every face as he passed. He kept catching a glimpse of one particular figure, but every time it came in view, it eluded him before he could get a good look. All he knew was it was a man in uniform, a few inches taller than Frank, with wavy black hair and a mustache. Maybe Uncle Tony? He wasn't sure.

Eventually he'd covered the entire room up to the stage. Not one other person or thing seemed to have any significance, and he felt no closer to the solution than he had before he walked in. Frustrated, he pulled himself up on stage and wandered through the performers. At least the music was providing pleasant background noise. Distracted, he tripped over his own feet and started to fall. Flailing, he grabbed at the ropes that controlled the curtain, and caught them. With his face. Pain exploded across his nose.

" _Motherfucker_!!" he screamed, righting himself and clamping his hand to his face. He could feel the blood starting to ooze from his nose. He cupped both hands under it to catch the flow, hopped off stage, and ran for the door, hoping to get out of there before he dripped all over. He made it back to the center of the room before he felt his hands start to overflow. Mentally cursing, he tried to pick up speed.

And then, with a bang, the world went dark.

***

Frank was freezing his fucking ass off. He hated it when he kicked all the blankets off the bed. He tried to see if any were in reach, but his arm felt too heavy to move. And his head was killing him. He'd only had one beer, so it couldn't be a hangover. The only explanation was that he was dying. Again. As he did with great regularity with his craptastic immune system. This time it seemed like it might be ear-related, too. There was a strange whispering sound, almost like voices, but too quiet to separate into individual words. An ear thing would explain the world spinning, too. And the sudden nausea.

Frank had an irrational fear of death by drowning in his own vomit, so he summoned all his energy and pushed himself onto his side just in the nick of time. He didn't really have time to consider why his bed was so unforgiving before he was puking his guts out.

Someone hefted him up enough so he wasn't barfing on himself and cool hands were holding his hair out of the way. His head was still pounding when his stomach finally settled. He was gently rolled to recline back on whoever it was, and then a cup was held to his mouth.

"It's just some water," Mikey said in a low voice. "Try to drink a little. It'll make you feel better."

Frank finally forced his eyes open. What the hell was he doing in the ballroom? Oh, right. Couldn't sleep, came to check it out, tripped, bled, knocked himself out. Ray and Mikey were crouched on either side of him, and his head was in Gerard's lap? He looked up, and yep, that was Gerard scowling down at him. Oh, god, he hoped to fuck he hadn't just puked on him. 

He managed a few sips of water, cleared his throat, and asked hoarsely, "What happened?"

Gerard sounded almost as angry as he looked. "You broke the rules and came in here by yourself--"

"Gerard," Mikey interjected. "I know you were worried, but you can yell at him later, though I bet you anything he won't ever do it again. Just tell him what you saw."

Gerard huffed out a breath. It was weird because Frank could feel it under his head and down his back. When he began to speak, Frank could feel that rumble, too. His lids heavy, he let his eyes drop shut.

"Elena woke me up and told me to get my ass down to the ballroom. When I opened the door, I saw you rushing toward me with your hands over your nose. You got to the middle of the room, and boom! There was a loud clap and you sank to the ground. It looked like one of the ghosts caught you or something so you didn't hit your head."

Frank twisted back to look at him. "A ghost-- Uncle Tony?"

"I don't know. I couldn't see a face," Gerard answered.

"No, I mean Uncle Tony! He's standing behind you! He's the guy who wouldn't let me see his face," babbled Frank.

"What?"

"Never mind. He's trying to tell me something, I think, but it's just coming out as white noise." Frank wrinkled his nose and tried to listen harder.

Ray and Mikey exchanged a glance. "You can hear him?"

"Yeah." Suddenly Frank realized just what he'd said and sat straight up "Holy shit! I can hear him. I can hear all of them. What the fuck is going on?" 

He took a deep breath and poked a finger into the leg of the nearest ghost, another uniformed man who wasn't Uncle Tony. A frigid cold penetrated his finger, instantly chilling Frank to the bone. He yanked his finger back and clasped it in his other fist. "I can feel them now, too! Seriously, what the fuck is going on?" 

"I don't know, man, but we'll figure it out," said Mikey. "Let's get you up. You think you're okay to stand?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Mikey and Ray each took an arm and gently hoisted Frank to his feet. Gerard stood and wrapped his arm around Frank's waist. Under different circumstances, Frank was sure he'd have enjoyed it, but as it was, all he wanted was his bed, suddenly beyond exhausted. 

"I think I need to lie down now," Frank said. He was dizzy and freezing and oh, hanging with his _dead Uncle Tony_ , but he didn't want to worry anyone by losing his shit. Fact was, he was probably too wiped out to lose his shit. For now. In the morning, on the other hand, that was an entirely different ball of wax. Which he would think about then. His immediate goal was to get back to his room and sleep for a million years. So he took a deep steadying breath. "I can walk on my own."

Gerard dropped his arm. "Okay." 

They headed out the door, stopping to wait while Gerard relocked the door with the key Frank had left in the lock. He handed it back to Frank. "I know we said it already, but please don't go back in there alone," he said softly, the tiny lines in his forehead betraying his concern.

"I won't," promised Frank.

Ray smiled at him. "Good. Before you go, can I--?"

Mikey slapped his hand over Ray's mouth. "No, you may not. I want to try to figure this out just as badly as you do, but look at him. We'll get all the answers we can in the morning. He's too tired to be much help now, anyway." 

He dropped his hand, only to put it right back when Ray started up, "Just one little qu--"

Mikey smiled at them. "Ray is going to back to his room now. Say good night, Ray." 

As he shoved Ray into the elevator, Ray called out, "Good night, Ray."

Frank was almost too tired to smile at that. Gerard and Mikey walked him back to his room and followed him in. 

"Let's clean you up a little," Mikey said, steering Frank into the bathroom and pushing him down on the closed toilet, Gerard crowding in behind him. He grabbed and wet a washcloth and went to work on the blood caking Frank's face.

Gerard smiled at him over Mikey's shoulder. "Don't freak out too badly, okay? I don't know why you couldn't feel anything from the ghosts before, but now that you can, it's not a huge deal. I mean, Mikey can hear and feel them, and he's mostly normal."

"Hey, now," Mikey shot over his shoulder with a grin, before focusing back on Frank. "I know you were disappointed that you couldn't feel them, before. Don't even try to lie and tell me you weren't. Now you can. It's all good."

Gerard continued, "And you know, maybe we need you be tuned in, too, to get to the bottom of what's going on and figure out how to fix it."

"And how cool is that, that you're the key to solving everything? Well. Hopefully, anyway," Mikey said, clearly trying to make Frank feel better.

"Pretty cool, I guess," said Frank thoughtfully, as Mikey rinsed the washcloth and hung it up. "I think I just need a little time to get used to it, is all."

"By the way, you did say you saw your uncle, didn't you? Was he saying anything to you?" Gerard asked.

"Gerard! We're not talking about this tonight!" Mikey said, shoving him out the open door. "Ignore him, Frankie. What you need is sleep. We'll sort it out in the morning. Now brush your teeth, wash the blood off your hands, and go to bed," Mikey said, patting Frank on the shoulder. "We'll leave you to it."

"Thanks, Mom," Frank said sarcastically.

"Whatever. You love me. You'd be lost without me. See you tomorrow."

Gerard poked his head back in the door. "Night, Frank," he said softly. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Night, guys. I'm glad I'm okay, too," Frank said, closing the door behind them.

He brushed and washed in record time, glad to have the metallic taste out of his mouth and his hands free of blood. He toed off his shoes, and was asleep practically before his head hit his pillow.

***  
The tantalizing aroma of Spencer's special, most delicious coffee roused Frank in the morning. His nose felt a lot better, but his ears still buzzed. When he couldn't resist anymore, he blearily sat up and reached for the mug on his night table. He cupped it in his hands, let his eyes close, and inhaled the steam for a minute. He let out a soft _mmmmm_ at the pure goodness of the scent.

He was vaguely aware of the soft rustle of clothes as someone breathed from the direction of his chair.

"You want me to leave you alone with it?" Mikey's wry voice cut through the silence.

"Fuck you." His voice was raspy and throat dry. He took a tentative sip of his coffee, and when it didn't burn his tongue, took a larger swallow. "Also, thanks for this."

Mikey said, "It's fine. How're you feeling now?"

"My ears are still doing that buzzy, static-y thing, but my face barely hurts."

"Well, it's killing me," Mikey interjected.

Frank ignored him. "Why can I still hear them? We're on the opposite side of the building."

"About that. What do you remember from last night?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "All of it. I didn't hit my head or anything. I still don't understand what happened, though. I mean, that first time when we all went in, it was like there was nothing at all. I could see them and hear the music, but it was a total lockdown on the rest. Then, after I passed out or whatever, it was technicolor ghostville. "

"Well, as near as we can tell, some of your blood landed on the weird spot in the middle of the room, and that somehow activated your sixth sense."

That made a strange kind of sense to Frank. Like those words unlocked a hidden door in his brain, and in opening it, it felt like it had always been there, like he always knew everything that had been hidden back there. "If we pull up the carpet, they'll be an explanation underneath," Frank mumbled around another sip of coffee.

Mikey just stared at him for a moment.

"What? Why are you creeping on me?"

"It's just that this morning, Bob and Ray did pull up the carpet and found some weirdass symbols carved into the wood underneath. It looks like some kind of communication thing, and your blood maybe somehow activated it. Ray and Gerard are working on it now."

Frank rationally thought that fact that he knew before Mikey said anything should freak him out more, but that spot in his brain was still putting out calm vibes, so he decided to go with it. 

Just then Uncle Tony appeared behind Mikey. "Holy _shit_!" Frank shouted, dropping his mug into his lap and clutching his heart. Luckily, he'd already finished his coffee.

Mikey snapped his head around to look behind him, but clearly couldn't see anything.

"What's wrong, Frankie? Are you okay?" he asked urgently.

"Uncle Tony. Behind you," he managed to say between deep breaths to slow his pulse.

Mikey relaxed back into his seat. "It's scary as shit at first when spirits start popping up. Ask Gerard sometime to tell you his stories. But it'll get better, I promise. What's he doing, anyway?"

"He's standing behind you and he's trying to tell me something, but I can't hear him and I can't read his lips." Frank was starting to get frustrated. He wanted to help, he really did. But it was all almost too much. He could suddenly really, really tune into the spirit world, because of his _blood_ , and now he actually needed to be able to figure out how to use it, because even though he was totally lost, he somehow knew it was related to Aunt Francie and there was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

Mikey seemed to be able to tell that Frank was having a minor freak out. He turned around. "Uncle Tony, please go away for a little bit and let us help Frank get used to this. Then we'll figure out a way for you to tell us what you need to, okay?"

And just like that, he was gone.

"He listened to you. That was kind of badass! Thanks," Frank said in awe before flopping back on his pillows. "I want to help him and all, but I just need to be, like, wearing pants and not in my bed. And actually awake. Are you sure this isn't a dream?"

Mikey leaned over and pinched his arm.

"Ow, motherfucker!"

Mikey smirked. "At least now you know you're awake. So get your ass out of bed, come have some breakfast, and then Ray, Gerard, and I will try to help you get adjusted."

An hour later, Frank was more than ready to learn how to control the noise. It was a constant irritant and was making his head hurt again. He dropped his head to his chest and rubbed at his temples.

Gerard rested his hand on the back of Frank's neck for a moment, gave it a squeeze, and released him. "We've all been through this. We'll figure something out. I'm a lot like my grandma Elena and she always pictured a door in her mind. When it was open, she could communicate with the other side. When she needed a break, she just closed the door. That works for me, too."

Frank tipped his head back and tried to picture an open door. Then he closed it. Nothing happened. He imagined slamming it, but the hum still echoed in his head. He sat up and opened his eyes. "That didn't work."

"Maybe a tv remote?" Ray suggested.

Mikey interrupted, "Yeah, picture something that you can control....picture a dial. Okay, now, imagine yourself turning it down, sort of like the volume control on a television set. Only you determine how much you feel. That's it."

Frank took a deep breath, again closed his eyes, pictured his remote and started pressing the minus button. "Nope," he said, with a sigh.

Ray said, "Okay. Maybe we need to try something a little more you. Maybe imagine an amp, and the volume dial is up too high."

"It goes to eleven," Frank muttered.

He heard Gerard mumble, "Hell yeah, Spinal Tap." Frank put out his hand for a fist bump.

"So picture turning it down as low as you want," continued Ray.

Frank closed his eyes and visualized his amp. As he filled in more detail, he felt an odd tingling. "Feels different this time," he mumbled. Maybe this time it would work. He focused on the volume dial and turned it down. Nothing happened.

"Nothing happened," said Frank flatly.

Gerard said softly, "Keep trying."

Frank honed his focus again. In his mind's eye, the volume dial slowly twisted from eleven to ten to nine, and this time, as the number dropped, so did the noise in his head.

He opened his eyes and smiled for the first time all day. "It worked!"

Gerard gave his a warm smile in return. "That's great, Frankie. It can take a while to get consistent control, so don't freak out if the dial slips back up. Just take a second and dial it back. Eventually, you won't even have to think about it."

"Good call, Ray, with the amp. And thank you all for your help. Me and my newfound peace and quiet are going to take a nap," Frank said, pushing to his feet. "And that means you, too, Uncle Tony. I'm not gonna be any help to anyone unless I get some sleep."

He left them discussing the next steps, and dragged himself back to bed, pleasantly surprised with both his progress and how he was starting to settle into owning his new abilities.

***  
Frank woke from his short nap feeling refreshed. He spent a few minutes adjusting the dial, and set out to knock a few more items off his to-do list. But every time he turned around, Uncle Tony was there. Try as he might, though, Frank could not figure out what he wanted. He couldn't hear a word Tony said, and their brief foray into yes and no questions ended in frustration on both sides. Frank even tried to turn the volume dial up to eleven, but none of the sounds were distinct enough to be understood. Aggravated at his inability to figure it and aware that he was under a deadline, Frank finally added a vision dial to the amp and tried to crank it down so he couldn't see Tony. He was so surprised when it worked that it turned halfway back before, with a brief apology to Tony, he twisted it back to zero.

By lunch, several more tasks were crossed off his list, the amp was getting easier to keep in place, and he was starving.

***  
Frank pushed his plate away, unable to eat another bite. Coffee, on the other hand... As he refilled his cup from the carafe on the table, he noticed Uncle Tony standing behind Brendon on the other side of the table. Checking his mental amp, he noted his vision dial was back up. But his real concern was how agitated Uncle Tony seemed.

"Guys, Uncle Tony is over there freaking out. I still can't hear what he's saying, though it seems like every time I turn up the volume, it's getting closer to actual words. But I get the overwhelming feeling that we're in a hurry here, and don't have time to wait until I get fully tuned in," said Frank.

Gerard said, "I tried asking Elena, but she's not around, which means this is something we have to figure out on our own."

"It also means she's pretty confident we will figure it out. In the past, if we started to run out of time, she's been pretty likely to take matters into her own hands and help us out," added Mikey, "so we're probably okay for now."

"It feels really unsettling, though. Whenever Uncle Tony's around, his distress comes through like crazy even if I can't see him. And yes, I made a dial for that, too, but it's hard to keep control of all of them at the same time, and even if I could, I'm not sure it's a good idea. What if I miss something important because I'm all closed off?" said Frank.

"When it's a true crisis, somehow spirits find a way to get through, believe me," reassured Ray.

"Can he write stuff?" asked Bob.

Spencer snorted. "I'm guessing no, or he would have already."

"What about a séance?" Brendon asked. "Maybe if we all focus our energy, it would help him break through? Or even better - an Ouija Board!"

"Seriously?" said Bob. "Because we just happen to have one lying around?"

Brendon bit his lip. "Well, actually..."

"It's worth a shot, I guess," said Gerard. "It probably won't work, but it certainly can't hurt. We should probably do it."

Brendon pushed back his chair. "I'll go get it. Be right back."

"Come to the lobby," Frank said. "The tables in here are too big."

Brendon met them in the lobby a couple of minutes later, board under one arm, incense clutched in his other hand. He was a bit out of breath, and Frank was pretty sure he'd run both ways. In the time he'd been gone, they'd set some of the throw pillows from the couch on the floor around the coffee table to use as seats.

"Who's gonna do the board with Frank? Can I, please? It was my idea and it's my board, plus I can hear the music so we know I'm sensitive. Can I please?" Brendon begged.

"Um," Gerard said, glancing at Frank for his approval. "It'll probably work better if both people are, uh, calm."

"I can be calm," said Brendon instantly. He froze, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths. Frank could see the tension leave his body. "See, there. I'm not even fidgeting."

"Is that okay with you?" Frank asked Gerard.

"Sure, why not?"

"Okay then. Frank, you and Brendon should sit opposite each other with the board between you. The rest of us will complete the circle," Gerard said, gesturing to the pillows.

Spencer sank down into the chair behind where Brendon was sitting. "I think I'll just watch from here, thanks."

"What's up with that?" asked Ray.

Spencer shrugged. "I'm kind of too practical to be in any way sensitive and I don't want that to affect what happens, so. I'm good here."

Gerard cocked his head. "For what it's worth, I don't think it works like that, but if you don't want to participate, that's fine. Just, I'm sure you realize you should sit tight, right?"

"Yep. Quiet and still as a mouse." Spencer mimed zipping closed his mouth and locking it.

"Okay then." Gerard went to sit in the only spot still open, to Frank's right. Mikey was across from him, next to Brendon, and Bob and Ray anchored the ends, Ray with his pad of paper and pen laid out in front of him.

"Let's do it," said Frank, knowing the apprehension was audible in his voice, but not caring. After all, he had no idea what Uncle Tony wanted from him, but he was tired of the frustration of not knowing, and getting some answers sounded damn good at the moment.

Gerard looked at him sympathetically and squeezed his shoulder, leaving his hand there for a moment. 

Frank could feel some of the tension leave him just from the simple contact. He ducked his head, sure if anyone saw his face they'd be able to see the feelings he was starting to have for Gerard like they were written in neon. It certainly wasn't the time or place to deal with them.

"Incense," said Brendon softly, interrupting Frank's train of thought. Gerard dropped his hand back to the table.

"We don't really need it," said Ray.

Brendon replied, "I know, but it smells good and I find it soothing."

"Then by all means," Mikey said. "We should keep this shit all over the place." 

Brendon just grinned while he lit it.

Once he was done, Gerard said quietly, "Frankie, is Uncle Tony here?"

"Yup. Look at Ray's hair." It was pointing to the chair behind Brendon. "Alrighty then, here goes nothing."

Frank rested his fingertips lightly on the planchette; Brendon mirrored him.

"Okay, I'm going to ask Uncle Tony our questions. Close your eyes, guys, and just let the pointer go. I'll read out where it stops, Ray will write it down, and hopefully we'll get some answers," said Gerard.

"Uncle Tony, can you hear me?" asked Gerard.

Frank kept his eyes closed and slowly the planchette moved up to the left.

"Yes," Gerard read out. "Okay, is there something you need from Frankie?"

The planchette moved a quarter of an inch off YES and then moved back over it.

"What is it?" he asked next.

The planchette glided down to the right. "F"

Down and barely to the left. "R"

The planchette continue to rove across the board, Gerard calling the letters. "A - N - C- I - E. Now it's gone back to the middle."

"Francie?" said Frank. "Aunt Francie's dead, Uncle Tony. You know that."

Again the planchette moved until it came to a rest over YES. Before anyone could ask any more questions, it again began to slide around the board. "M-U-S-T-C-A-L-L-H-E-R-T-O-M-E"

"So call her to you, Uncle Tony. She's far more likely to hear you than anyone from this side," Frank said.

Again the planchette traversed the board. "C-A-N-T"

"Why not?" asked Gerard.

"N-E-E-D-L-I-V-I-N-G-S-O-U-L"

"Need a living soul for what?" Frank couldn't see his face, but Gerard sounded wary.

"A-P-P-E-L-L-O-C-O-R"

"What's that?" Brendon whispered.

"I have no idea," Gerard answered. "Tony, what's that?"

The planchette moved down and came to a rest on GOOD BYE.

"Good-bye? No, wait, Tony, please? What's appellocor?" Gerard asked.

"He's gone," Ray said quietly. "My hair is down."

Frank opened his eyes and quickly scanned the room. "Ray's right. He left. Now what?"

"Now we do research," said Mikey, standing and going to blow out the candles. Bob got up to help.

Ray said, "Yep. We need to figure out what appellocor is."

"Not to be an alarmist or anything, but is anyone else, uh, concerned that whatever the heck it is requires a living soul? That sounds ominous," said Brendon as he returned the Ouija board to its box.

"You're not wrong," Gerard said carefully.

Spencer, in his usual practical way, said, "But why don't we wait to freak out until we know why we're freaking out. For now, let's let the experts do the research and the rest of us can get back to work."

In spite of the cryptic message from Uncle Tony, Frank felt more relaxed than he had since he'd accidentally activated his sixth sense. 

***  
Frank was getting entirely too used to not sleeping. Tonight he didn't even try to fight it. He was curled up on his couch with a book when there was a soft tap on his door.

Gerard was in the hall in a ratty t-shirt and the same pajama pants that barely clung to his hips. His hair was sticking up in all directions, like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. Frank unconsciously smoothed his own hair down, hyper-aware he was in a t-shirt and boxers himself. "What's up?" he asked, stepping aside and waving Gerard in.

"Sorry to disturb you, but I was still up and Elena said you were, too. Want company?" Gerard asked.

Frank had a moment's panic that Elena had been in his room and what if he'd been, like, adjusting his junk or taking a shit or something else equally embarrassing. "Was she, uh, in here?" he asked, hoping his voice wasn't as high-pitched as he thought it was.

"I don't think so. She just knew," said Gerard. The corner of his mouth was twitching like he knew what Frank was thinking.

Frank changed the subject."C'mon in. I haven't been sleeping much, you know. Can't seem to shut my brain off long enough to actually fall asleep."

"Yeah. These past couple of days, it's been a lot to take in," said Gerard as he came through the door.

"Kind of an understatement, but yeah."

"You think you'll be able to fall asleep soon?"

"Nah. I think a piece of my brain is still trying to process what Uncle Tony told us. So take a seat."

Gerard perched on the couch, leaning toward Frank, elbows resting on his knees. "So," he started, then stopped.

"So," Frank repeated, flopping on the bed. "You might as well just spill whatever it is. Dragging this out isn't going to help either of us fall asleep any faster."

Gerard said, "Yeah, well. Telling may keep you from falling asleep at all tonight."

"Well, now you have to tell me. No way you can leave me hanging, and no way at all that I'll fall asleep before I know."

"Point. Okay, Elena sat me down for a little talk tonight after I got back to my room. She gave me a hint about what Appellocor is. I did some research and I think I have a pretty good idea of what's going on here."

"And?"

"Appellocor means literally 'call heart' and is a ritual of some sort. I haven't been able to figure out any details yet, but basically? Tony's been waiting for Francie since he died, but for some reason, she didn't wind up with him when she passed. In order for them to be reunited, someone alive, someone one connected to them, has to perform this ritual, which, if it works, will call Francie back to Tony," Gerard explained.

"Someone connected to them? I mean, it's a no-brainer that I'm connected to Aunt Francie, but Uncle Tony died before even my parents were born. Where am I supposed to find someone who who knew them both?" Frank said, thinking out loud.

"Um. Well. There's more," said Gerard hesitantly. 

"Okay?" Frank said. 

Gerard didn't answer right away. He was twisting his hands in lap and didn't seem to want to look Frank in the eye.

Frank said, "Whatever it is, not telling me is making it worse. Just. Pretend it's a band-aid and rip it off fast, okay? I'll handle it, I promise."

Gerard sighed and finally looked up at him. "I know you can. You can handle anything."

For a second they just stared at each other. Gerard really was ridiculously good-looking, and his eyes were gorgeous. If Frank didn't know better, he'd maybe think there was more than a little fondness in them. 

No, he needed to remember Gerard was there to work, and see his brother, and not to start something with Frank. With a mental headshake, he brought himself back to the conversation. "Thanks, but please just tell me."

Gerard inhaled deeply and began. "I think it's fair to say that Aunt Francie was obviously a sensitive, at least to the energy in the hotel. I'm pretty sure she's the one that carved the symbol on the ballroom floor. I found it in one of my books. It's a binding circle."

"A binding circle? That doesn't sound so good."

"It's not necessarily bad, either, though. Hear me out before you freak, okay? In this case, she used it to bind up your energy sensitivity."

Frank opened his mouth, but Gerard didn't let him speak. "No, hey. She was protecting you. You visited here a lot, even when you were little and came with your parents, right? If the energy was bothering you, which it had to have been, she would have wanted to figure out how you could spend time here and not have to deal with it."

Frank nodded slowly. "I guess I could maybe see that. Everyone used to tease me about how much I loved this place, considering the first time we came to visit Aunt Francie when I was baby, I apparently cried the entire time I was here. If I was reacting to all those ghosts, I guess I could see how she'd do something like that..."

"Uh huh. But there's a little more to it. It looks like Francie knew she might need help reuniting with Uncle Tony, so she took some steps. When she did the binding, she constructed it in such a way that the binding could be broken by a drop of your blood," Gerard continued.

"So when I got the bloody nose, it killed the spell or whatever, so I could feel the energy again." The wheels in Frank's brain were turning and he was pretty sure he wasn't thrilled with where they were taking him.

"Exactly," was all Gerard said, and then fell silent, waiting for Frank to put it together himself.

"Uncle Tony manipulated me into tripping so I would get the bloody nose and deactivate the binding, didn't he, because... he needed me to find the person to do the ritual?" Frank guessed.

Gerard said softly, "Almost, but not quite."

Suddenly the pieces clicked. "Uncle Tony thinks I'm the one who's supposed to do this ritual?! I didn't even know ghosts were real until a couple of days ago. I've only been able to interact with them for twenty-four hours, and now I've gotta figure out how to reunite Uncle Tony and Aunt Francie? That's... Shit. Kind of a lot, you know?" Frank wasn't hysterical on the outside, but on the inside, he was pretty close.

Gerard ran his hand through his hair, achieving a new level of disarray. "Frank, there is no way Aunt Francie would expect anything of you that she didn't think were capable of doing. She believes in you. She left her future in your hands. I know you can do this. Plus, you've got me to help. And Ray and Mikey and Bob and Brendon and Spencer. You've got this one."

"Maybe," Frank said doubtfully. "It's just a lot to take in."

Gerard let him be for a minute, which was exactly what he needed while his brain chased itself in circles trying to figure out how he felt about everything Gerard had just dumped on him. He understood why Aunt Francie had done what she'd done, but he wasn't sure how he felt about her fate riding on his shoulders. He needed some time to figure that out. And probably sleep, which he was pretty sure wasn't going to happen any time soon. What he needed now was to not think about it for a little.

"Certainly not gonna sleep now," he finally said. He scooched up the bed until he was propped up on his pillow, grabbed the remote, and patted the spot next to him. "Come sit. We might as well watch crap tv. I'm sure can find a horrible movie to keep us occupied."

"You want me to get the light?" Gerard asked, gesturing to the lamp by the couch, still on from when Frank was reading.

Frank answered, "Sure, thanks."

After turning off the light, Gerard climbed up and made himself comfortable next to him while Frank flipped through the channels, finally settling on the end of _Armageddon_. The movie really wasn't distracting enough to take his mind off the ritual, but having Gerard so close in the dimly lit room kind of was. Frank was too wary of accidentally touching him, or falling on his lips, or doing something else equally inappropriate to relax at all. And whenever he managed to get his mind off how close Gerard was ( _Gerard! In his bed!_ his brain helpfully supplied), he couldn't stop thinking about what the ritual might entail, and if he'd have even a chance of being successful. One thing was sure, though, and that was he owed it to Aunt Francie to at least try.

Gerard's soft _hey_ interrupted his thoughts. He didn't know how long he'd been lost in his head, but the movie had finished and _The Descent_ was on in its place.

"Huh?" he said blearily. Gerard was watching him, his face mere inches from Frank's. He couldn't help but glance down at Gerard's lips before catching himself and yanking his eyes back up.

"You seem awfully tense over there. You okay?" Gerard said quietly.

"Eh, just. Everything's kind of tangled in my head, you know?"

"I hear you."

They sat for a moment, just looking at each other, until Frank realized how creepy he was being and forced his attention back to the cannibal mole people on tv.

"You know, this may be kind of dumb, but Elena used to take me through a guided meditation when my head got too messed up. Maybe it would help?" offered Gerard a few minutes later.

"I guess it can't hurt. Guide away."

"Um, okay. Lie down, I guess, and get comfortable." Gerard leaned over Frank to grab the remote to shut off the tv, which put him practically in Frank's lap. Frank was too old and too stressed to get any inappropriate hard-ons and he'd appreciate it if his body could remember that. He held his breath until Gerard moved away.

In the faint light cast by the small lamp by the bed, Gerard's features blurred into something soft, and beautiful enough to take Frank's breath away. He forced himself to close his eyes and take one shaky breath after another until his heartbeat slowed back to normal.

"Ready?"

Frank nodded.

"Okay, take a deep breath in through your nose. Then let it out slowly through your mouth."

***  
Frank woke up slowly. His dreams had been odd, flashes of the ballroom, Uncle Tony in full uniform and Aunt Francie in her wedding dress, both surrounded by flames. At some point in the night, he'd wiggled under the covers, and after the late night and disquieting dreams, he didn't feel much like moving.

Especially when he realized Gerard was still in his bed. Well, not exactly in, but he'd clearly sacked out on top of the covers next to Frank. One of his legs was pressed against Frank's, and even though it made him the king of all lame-os--there were _layers_ between them, many layers--Frank was going to take what he could get.

He had just convinced himself that in five minutes he had to get up or he would be creepier than he was comfortable with when Gerard turned over, flung an arm around his waist, and curled into his back.

On one hand it was kind of awesome, because Frank could close his eyes and pretend that Gerard had done it on purpose, but on the other, practical hand, it was awkward as hell. Frank was pretty sure Gerard wouldn't freak out, and would probably give some rambling speech about the ingrained instinct to huddle in sleep and society's ridiculous gender politics that taught it was unacceptable between two men, but it wouldn't change the fact that Frank liked it, and Gerard was just behaving out of instinct.

After lying there indecisively for several minutes, Frank slithered out of bed, silently praying it wouldn't wake Gerard up. He had a moment of panic when Gerard started to grope around where Frank had been, but then Gerard found Frank's pillow, pulled it close, and stilled.

What Frank wanted to do was stand there and watch Gerard sleep, but since he wasn't into torturing himself, he went to shower instead.

He emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam a quarter of an hour later, drying his hair with one towel, another slung loosely around his waist. Gerard appeared to still be sleeping, so Frank quietly pulled out a clean t-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. As he dropped the towel to put on his underwear, he thought he heard Gerard inhale sharply, but when he turned to check, Gerard's eyes were closed and his breath was slow and steady.

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed his shoes, phone, wallet and keys, and tiptoed out, carefully closing the door behind him. He took a second to put on his shoes, and had taken no more than two steps when he heard from behind him, "Is it a walk of shame if you're leaving your own place?"

Frank whirled around. Mikey was leaning up against the wall a few feet down from his door, smirking knowingly. "Your face is a walk of shame," Frank shot back, turning back down the hall.

Mikey laughed as he fell into step next to him. "What does that even mean?"

Frank grinned back. "That I need coffee. Desperately."

"Rough night?" The smirk was back.

All at once, everything Gerard told him about the mysterious ritual, all the anxiety of the situation, came rushing back. "Kind of, yeah," Frank admitted. "And not in a good way."

"What's up?" Mikey said, all traces of humor gone.

"Coffee first, then I'll tell you everything."

***  
Frank poured over the stack of papers Gerard emerged with at lunch, trying to glean what he could about the Appellocor process. What Gerard had found after a morning spent scouring the internet, consulting with a bunch of his contacts, and talking with Elena was just a handful of personal accounts by people who had performed the ritual. As far as Frank could tell, one of the few things they had in common with each other was that they all used personal items that were significant to the relationship between the people they were trying to reunite.

The other commonality was that when the ritual succeeded, everyone who had done it claimed the right words and actions had just come to them in the moment.

Frank didn't feel much better after he'd read through it all, and it certainly didn't help that Gerard wouldn't look him in the eye. He'd been kind of squirrelly throughout lunch, talking in Frank's general direction, but focusing on the wall behind him or his own plate instead of on Frank's face. And he kept shooting him glances but looking away as soon as he realized Frank had noticed.

Maybe Frank had bad-touched him in his sleep? Or confessed his undying love? Somehow Frank didn't think that was it, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what he'd done.

He was still trying to puzzle it out when there was knock at his door. It was Gerard. "Can we talk?" he asked tentatively.

Frank studied his face for a moment. He looked tense around the eyes and was biting his lip. 

"Yeah, sure," he said, forcing an easiness he didn't feel. He had no idea where the conversation was going to go, but suddenly he didn't want the memory of it to haunt his room. "Let's go out to the studio."

They walked in silence across the courtyard. Frank wanted to stop, let the place work some magic, unwind him a bit, but he didn't want to give Gerard any more of an excuse to delay their talk.

When they reached the other door, Gerard paused. "You mind if we go sit on the bench over there instead?" he asked, tilting his head towards the oak tree in the corner.

"Not at all," said Frank, leading the way to the bench. Gerard seemed to want to take a minute, and Frank was more than happy to give it to him. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and concentrated on slow, deep breaths, out and in.

"So. Are you going to tell me what has you all freaked out?" Frank finally said without moving.

Gerard huffed out a grim laugh. "Guess I should have known you'd figure out something was up."

"Ya think?" Frank drawled. "You're not exactly subtle."

"Yeah, well. Sorry," Gerard said, a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Apology accepted. Now what's up?"

"Why do you want to do this ritual, Frank?"

Oh. Not about the sleep-touching then. Which was good, Frank told himself firmly. "Why? Why wouldn't I? Uncle Tony asked. He and Aunt Francie deserve to be together. It's the least I could do, especially for Aunt Francie." He paused. "How much did Mikey tell you about her?"

Gerard grinned. "He thought she was pretty terrific, so a fair amount."

"She was... I'm an only child, right? And I gave my parents a really hard time. The summer I was fourteen, I had just figured out I was gay and I was pissed at the world. I was headed in a real bad direction. My friends were, well, shitty, but I still didn't want to be different from them. And I took it out on _everyone_ ," Frank said sheepishly.

"Aunt Francie offered to have me stay with her, you know, give my parents a break. And she could always use extra help around here. I thought I was heading off for a Cali summer, wasting the day on the beach, just hanging out. Spending some time with my favorite great-aunt who spoiled me like crazy as a kid. Instead, she woke my ass up at the crack of dawn every day, taught me all kinds of stuff about running the inn, and made me clean the bathrooms." 

Frank stopped, overcome for a moment by just how much he missed her. He took a deep breath and continued. "And I didn't even mind because she made it fun. By the time the month was up, I had a total attitude adjustment. She somehow got me to see that everything was going to be okay, that being gay wasn't the end of the world." 

"She sounds like such a special woman," Gerard said, squeezing Frank's shoulder sympathetically. "I wish I could have met her."

"She would have liked you. Mikey used to tell stories about you guys when you were kids. She loved hearing them," Frank said. 

Gerard shook his head, "I don't even want to know what he told you."

Frank laughed. "Don't worry, nothing bad. Anyway, as a bonus that first summer, I fell completely in love with this place. I spent every break out here after that, went to school for hotel management, and the second I graduated, came out here to help her full time."

He stopped again, could picture her when she told stories about when she was first married, her feelings for Tony still written all over her face even all those years later. "She never stopped loving Uncle Tony, and talked to him all the time. I figured it was her way of coping, although after the past few days, I think now that he was probably answering her. 

"I owe her pretty much everything. If she hadn't been here..." Frank trailed off and shook his head. "Helping her reunite with Tony is the least I can do, you know?"

"So what are you hoping to get out of it?" asked Gerard.

Frank shrugged. "I just want them to be together. Their love story is kind of epic. All I want is to get them their happy ending. Is there a point to these questions?"

Gerard cleared his throat. "There is. I didn't tell you everything I found out about Appellocor. There are reports out there of it going pretty wrong."

"Pretty wrong how?" Part of Frank was scared to hear the answer, but he knew he had to.

"It's not totally clear. But the best I've been able to figure out is that if it's not done right, the person doing it loses their heart, figuratively speaking. They can't fall in love ever again, or even feel any emotions. It's kind of a living death. Magic is dangerous stuff. Since the whole point of the ritual is to call two hearts together, once it starts, if it doesn't call the intended heart, it'll take the nearest one."

"That's...disturbing," said Frank, finally finding a word that conveyed how terrible it sounded.

"Yeah. So you'd better be damn sure it's worth it if you're going to try," Gerard said seriously. "I know you want to do this for Francie, but are you willing to sacrifice your own happiness? She's already dead and has a lot less to lose."

Frank thought about it. And thought some more. He knew he could be kind of a dick, but he did want to fall in love someday, get married, maybe adopt a kid or two. Was he willing to put that dream aside so Aunt Francie and Uncle Tony could be together? The more he turned it over in his mind, the surer he became. Aunt Francie and Uncle Tony had found real love with each other. And while Frank had been in deep like a time or two - he cut a glance at Gerard, who was patiently waiting for him - he'd never had what they had. And for them to lose the chance to be together for eternity so Frank could maybe fall in love someday? He couldn't do that to them.

Finally, he looked up. "I have to try, Gerard."

Gerard nodded once. "I know. I just couldn't let you walk into this without knowing exactly what you're risking. "

"I appreciate that, but my mind's made up. And I can't really explain it, but I feel like we have to do this soon. You think we have time to get everything together for tonight?"

"I'm in. Lead the way."

***  
Frank wasn't so much nervous as fucking terrified. He and Gerard had come up with the beginning of the ritual, borrowing generously from several different traditions, but as for the rest, the crucial part of it? So much was riding on this, and all he had to go on was that he'd know it when he needed it. Frank wasn't sure he had that much faith in himself, in the process, in his ability to do magic, but he also knew panicking was maybe the worst possible thing he could do.

He surveyed the room one more time. Concentric circles of candles danced in unseen currents and infused the ballroom with warm light and flickering shadows. Ray, Gerard, Mikey, and Bob stood outside the outermost circle, each at one of the four points of the compass, while Brendon and Spencer bookended the main entrance doors. Uncle Tony was nowhere to be seen.

At his feet lay Tony's letters encircled by his dog tags, Francie's wedding bouquet with the handkerchief wrapped around the stems, a silver punch bowl, an incense burner, and matches.

"Okay. This is your last chance to back out." He looked at each of his friends in turn. "I need to know I have 100% support from each of you, and that's not an easy thing. I will have far more respect for you if you bow out now than if you go into it unconvinced."

He paused, but no one said anything.

"Seriously. Last chance." Again he was met with silence.

"Okay then. Here we go." He took the chalk in his hand and completed the last section of the circle he'd drawn earlier just inside the innermost ring of candles.

He moved to the center, closed his eyes, and focused inward on his love for Aunt Francie, his desire to reunite her with Uncle Tony, and his belief that their love for each other was pure and eternal. And slowly, the jumble of half-formed thoughts and impressions began to take shape. Still he waited, digging even deeper, reaffirming that bringing them together far superseded any risk to himself. And at that moment, the words came.

"I call on the Gatekeepers to enclose this space and make it sacred." He nodded at Spencer and Brendon, who met at the center of the doors. Brendon lit sweetgrass and rosemary incense, Spencer lit cinnamon and cedar. Once the sticks were smoking, they moved back to either side of the doors.

Frank faced Bob. "I call on the North and Element of Earth to join our circle and make it whole."

Bob lit his gardenia incense and stepped over the candles into the outermost ring.

Frank made a quarter turn to right. "I call on the East and the Element of Air to join our circle and make it whole."

Bob walked to Gerard, lit his frangipani from his own incense, and returned to his spot once Gerard stepped into the ring.

Another quarter turn. "I call on the South and the Element of Fire to join our circle and make it whole."

Gerard walked to Ray, lit his hyacinth, and returned to his spot once Ray stepped into the ring.

The last quarter turn. "I call on the West and the Element of Water to join our circle and make it whole."

Ray went to Mikey, lit his apple stick, and returned to his spot once Mikey stepped into the ring.

Frank lit his magnolia and lavender sticks. The aroma of all the different herbal and floral incenses blended into a new scent. Frank took a moment to breathe it in, and in that moment the next step bloomed, a clear path to follow along with the certain knowledge that once he began, the only option was to see it to the end.

"In the presence of North, South, East, and West, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, our circle is complete."

He lowered himself to the ground, placed the incense in the holder, and moved the silver bowl to rest in his lap. He picked up Uncle Tony's letters in his left hand and Aunt Francie's bouquet in his right. "A deep and abiding love bound Frances and Anthony, and though their bodies have passed from the physical world, their love for each other is eternal and unbroken."

He carefully placed the bouquet in the bowl and held the letters in both hands. "These letters, carefully crafted from Tony to Francie, are a testament to his love for her."

After unwinding the dog tags, he set the letters in the bowl and lay the dog tags in front of him. Next, he held the bouquet. "These flowers, the last remnant of the ceremony that united Tony and Francie in marriage, are a testament to her love for him."

He separated the handkerchief from the stem and set the flowers in the bowl. He folded the handkerchief carefully, so the lipstick kiss and monogram were on the outside, then wrapped the dog tags around it so the tags rested on top of them.

"This token of their bond shall remain in this world as a testament to their love." He lay it aside and knelt in front of the bowl.

A trance-like peace settled over him, and from the back of his mind came forgotten words.

He took up a stick of incense in each hand and pointed them to the north. "'I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.'" 

With each word, he could feel a weird sort of potential begin to collect, circulating through his body in time with his heartbeat. He didn't know what the fuck it was, but it was absolutely not the time to panic. Instead, as he moved the incense to the east, he could sense a trail of energy flowing out of him, sketching the start of a separation between his circle and the rest of the room. "'I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.'"

The words poured out of him, taking on shape and meaning in a way they never had before. Frank concentrated on imbuing each one with all the intent he could muster, ever aware that Francie's eternity depended on him getting it exactly right, as he moved the incense to the south, stretching the energy field around with it. "'So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I do not exist, nor you.'"

As he moved the incense to the west, he could feel the pulse of the energy growing even stronger and focusing his power. "'So close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.'" Without thinking, he completed the column of energy around him. Some part of his mind recognized that he was now the source of power fueling the ritual and had succeeded in creating the separate space required for the next step.

He paused for a moment, then continued. "This token of their bond shall burn in this world to nothing, and as their ash so blends indistinguishable one from the other, so shall Frances and Anthony become one, their spirits blended for eternity."

Frank took the burning incense sticks and held the smoldering tips to the aged paper and dried flowers. The flame spread quickly.

He knew he needed more words, words to focus the energy into action, and then there they were. He watched the fire flicker and flair. "'The wakened lover speaks directly to the beloved, you are the sky my spirit circles in, the love inside love, the resurrection-place.'"

Again he reached an almost trance-like state.

"'When I was apart from you, this world did not exist, nor any other. Whatever I was looking for was always you.'" And if that didn't sum up Uncle Tony and Aunt Francie, he didn't know what would. He could only hope it would be enough.

He continued, aware that each word drew that much more power into the circle. He could feel it pressing down on him, and the same part of his mind that found the words knew he wasn't done yet. "'I belong to the beloved, have seen the two worlds as one and that one call to and know. First, last, outer, inner, only that breath breathing.'"

As he finished, the last of the flames died out, leaving only ash in the bowl. He picked up the bowl by the edges, stood and held it over his head. The energy seemed to be pushing back, pulsing urgently, demanding release.

"'When was in that candle's light that opened and consumed me so quickly?'" As he spoke, the air within his began to shimmer in front of him. 

"'Come back, my love! The form of our love is not a created form.'" Slowly, the shimmer coalesced into Tony's ghost. Frank gulped - fuck, it was working - but managed to soldier on. 

"'Nothing can help me but that beauty.'" His words were still drawing power, from where he didn't want to think about. The pressure was building again, but there still wasn't enough to bring Aunt Francie. "'There was a dawn I remember when my soul heard something from your soul. I drank water from your spring and felt the current take me.'"

The instant he finished, there was a silence like the world holding its breath. He could feel the energy weaving around him, but still Tony stood alone.

Frank's arms began to shake. And still Tony stood alone.

A coil of fear crept up from Frank's stomach and transformed into a sensation far more ominous. A net was encircling his heart, and while the pain was real, he was enveloped in a strange sort of calm, a certainty that even if he had known he was going to fail, he still would have made the attempt for Francie and Tony's sake, for the sliver of possibility of success.

And in that moment of surrender, of acknowledgement of his utter powerlessness in the face of intensifying pain, he had a certain satisfaction that he had given his whole self.

Dumb as it probably was, as the pain flared, that iota of hope flared with it, high, higher, and yet higher. And in that last moment of emotion he would ever experience, he was flooded with love, from within and without.

Frank had forgotten he wasn't alone, and it poured into him from every person in the room, pushing out the pain, until with a blinding flash, it was wholly expelled.

As the spots in front of his eyes dissipated, there stood Aunt Francie in Uncle Tony's arms.

"Thank you, Frankie. Thank you so much," she said to him.

Frank lowered the bowl with shaky arms, and as Aunt Francie and Uncle Tony's lips met for the first time in more than half a century, the candles were snuffed out by a wind from nowhere.

He was smiling so hard he barely noticed the floor rushing to meet him.

***  
Frank woke slowly. He had that feeling of half-dreaming, and if he kept his eyes closed, he would still be able to talk to Francie.

"Frank, it's okay. You can wake up," Francie said gently.

"But I want to talk to you. I still want to know what the hell went on. And I miss you," dream-Frank said.

"I'll still be here, Frankie. You'll still be able to see me and talk to me. I promise. It will be like Gerard and Elena," she assured him. "Now, open your eyes."

Frank did as he was told and immediately regretted it. It was too bright. The crack in the curtains let sunlight right into his eyes. He rolled over, stretched a little, and groaned. His eyes were sliding shut. Just a few more minutes...

"It's like you're fifteen again and staying for the summer. I never could get you out of bed before eleven!"

That woke him up; he sat up and looked wildly around the room. "What? Aunt Francie?"

She appeared by the bedroom door. "I told you I would be around."

"Yeah, I know." Frank felt a little embarrassed; he was pretty old to be wishing his great-aunt would be around to take care of him. "So. What the _hell_?"

Francie smiled. "Why don't you go have some coffee and breakfast? We can talk later, but your friends will want to know you're okay. Especially that Gerard fellow of yours," she said with a knowing smile.

Frank blushed and ducked his head. "I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled.

He realized the coffee and food was a good call. He stretched and pushed the covers off, not caring that most of them ended up on the floor. Laundry day was coming up anyway.

He went around Francie before he realized she wasn't actually physically there. "This is weird," he muttered as he shuffled out the door.

"You got that right!" Francie agreed. "I'll come find you later, honey."

Frank nodded and went to find Gerard. And Spencer. And the others. Not necessarily in that order. After all, Spencer had coffee.

***  
Spencer wasn't in the kitchen, but Brendon was. "You're up!" he said as he tackle-hugged Frank.

Frank patted Brendon on the back. "Yes, I am," was all he had a chance to say before Brendon abruptly let him go. Brendon grabbed the house phone and called the front desk. "He's awake!" And then he hung up.

"Was I sleeping for a long time or something?" Frank asked Brendon.

"Dude, you were out for almost two days."

"Seriously?" Frank didn't _feel_ like he'd slept for two days. He could probably go for a nap, to tell the truth. But that might be because he hadn't had coffee yet.

Spencer walked in with a few bags of fresh vegetables. "Frank!"

"Coffee?" Frank asked with his best pathetic, puppy-dog face.

Spencer rolled his eyes as he put the veggies on the counter. "Really? That's all you're gonna say? And my name is _Spencer_ , by the way. Not 'coffee'."

Frank stepped over and hugged Spencer tight. And then looked up at him with the face again. "Okay, okay! I'll make you coffee!"

Frank squeezed Spencer even tighter. "Thank you! You're my favorite chef of all the chefs in this inn!"

"Fuck off. I'm the _only_ \--" Spencer was interrupted by Gerard, Mikey, Bob, and Ray running in.

Gerard was first, but seemed to back off when he saw Frank. Mikey pushed him out of the way and hugged Frank almost as hard as Brendon had. Then Ray shoved Mikey away and even Bob hugged Frank.

Frank looked at Gerard, trying not to be too obviously disappointed that Gerard didn't come within arm's length of him. He did give Frank a big beaming smile though. Frank couldn't help but smile back. He'd take what he could get.

"I'm glad you're okay. You were out for about 36 hours," Gerard told Frank.

"Yeah, that's what Brendon said."

"Okay, before we get into what Frank missed and how much work he has to do now that he wasted two whole days of the Dead Zone, take your damn coffee and go sit in the dining room," Spencer ordered. "I'll heat up the lasagna I made yesterday."

When they all tried to descend upon the coffee maker at once, Spencer yelled, "Brendon!"

"Yup, on it." He was already grabbing the milk and sugar and putting them on a serving tray. "Dining room! I'll bring it in!"

At Spencer's glare, they fled the kitchen to the dining room. Frank sat down and Mikey pulled out the chair next to him. Then Mikey looked at Gerard, smirked at the look on his face, and gestured that Gerard should sit there. When Mikey sat on Gerard's other side, Frank couldn't help thanking him in his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw someone else in the room. He looked over and saw Aunt Francie with a smug, knowing smile. " _What_?" he said obnoxiously. 

"Oh, nothing," she said, still smiling. Everyone but Gerard was looking around the room. Gerard was looking right at Francie, looking amused at the exchange.

Francie continued, "I'm just thinking about how much I love my grandnephew and how much he loves--"

"Aunt Francie!" Frank cut her off, face turning red.

"Coffee! How much my grandnephew loves _coffee_. And here comes Brendon!" she said as she disappeared.

"Uh, so, Frank..." Ray started. "I'm guessing you can see Francie? What about Tony?"

"Haven't seen him yet," but before he finished his sentence, Uncle Tony appeared behind Ray.

All he said was, "Hi, Frank," with a wink before he disappeared again.

"Okay, that's a yes, I can see him too." 

"Can you see them, Gee? Like Elena?" Mikey asked.

"Yeah, I just saw them and heard them too."

"Oh god..." Frank dropped his head to the table. He saw a lot of meddling in his future. Dammit, Aunt Francie!

Gerard asked him what was wrong but Frank waved him off and sat up again. He reached over to finally grab a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee. He inhaled deeply as he added milk and sugar. "I love Spencer," he said dreamily.

"Mine," Brendon said as he prepared his own cup.

"You can have him," Bob said. "Frank wants--"

"Fuck off, Bob. What is _with_ you people today?" Frank asked. Bob just laughed.

"Asshole," Frank muttered.

"Um, I have no idea what's going on," Gerard said. "But Frank, you're really okay, right? 'Cause you were asleep for a lot of hours."

"Yeah, Gee. I'm fine," Frank assured him again. "Haven't slept that well in a long time, actually."

Spencer came in then with the lasagna and garlic bread. It was quiet while they all served themselves and began eating.

And then Frank couldn't stand it anymore. "Okay, so _what the fuck happened_?"

"Well, what's the last thing you remember?"

Frank thought for a moment. "I remember doing the start. You know, the part Gerard worked out for me. But once the circle was closed and I lit the incense, it all goes hazy."

Bob said, "Maybe the incense made you high."

"You know, I was expecting all those different incenses mixed together to give me a headache, but they actually worked together. They smelled pretty good," said Spencer.

"They did," agreed Frank. "And I don't think it made me high. I just. Can't remember."

"Man, it was so weird. You started talking really formally. And you said the letters and bouquet were like the Tony and Francie's relationship in this life," Brendon said.

"Physical representation," interjected Ray.

"Whatever," Brendon waved a hand in Ray's direction. "Then you started talking in poetry or something."

"It was Pablo Neruda. Seventeen. I do not love you," said Gerard. He closed his eyes, like he was digging deep into his memory to get the words exactly right, then began reciting softly, ""I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.'"

Mikey started to laugh. "Man, who knew your basement-dwelling, non-showering, poetry-loving days would ever be relevant to anything."

Gerard open his eyes, flushing a little, and with a sheepish grin mumbled, "Whatever. It's a famous poem."

"How did you know it anyway, Frank?" asked Bob.

"I took a poetry seminar in college. I guess some of it stuck. I haven't thought about that poem in years. So then what happened?"

"You put the flowers and letters in the bowl and burned them up while you said more poetry." Brendon looked at Gerard, "You gonna start reciting again?"

"Nope. I don't know what that one was." He looked almost apologetic, but Frank wasn't planning on holding it against him.

"How'd it go?" Frank asked.

Spencer said, "Something about candles and breathing and drinking souls."

"Sounds like Rumi, if for no other reason than he's the only other poet I even vaguely remember from that class," said Frank. "So then what?"

"Once the flames went out, you held up the bowl, said some more stuff and then Uncle Tony appeared in circle with you," Ray answered.

With perfect timing, Uncle Tony turned up in the dining room. "Just like that," he said with a grin.

Frankie smiled back, and Gerard chuckled softly.

Mikey said, "We were all just standing there, waiting, when you got this peculiar look on your face, like you were in agony, but then you just went calm, which I'm kind of surprised I recognized because I've hardly ever seen it before."

Frank laughed. "Fuck off."

"It was actually kind of how you look when you're playing guitar," said Gerard, catching Frank's eyes, a small smile on his face.

"Creeper," coughed Mikey into his hand. Gerard broke away to glare at Mikey as the blush crept up his face.

Frank waved his hand at them. "Play nice, you two. Then what?"

Brendon's eyes widened at the memory, "And then, there was a flash of light and Aunt Francie appeared! Even Spencer could see them!"

Just as he said it, Aunt Francie showed up encircled in Uncle Tony's arms. "Just like this," she said with a grin, sharing a warm look with Uncle Tony.

Frank was so fucking relieved it had worked. Looking at them together was maybe the best thing he'd ever seen, and he felt grateful he had had a hand in making it happen.

He chanced a look at Gerard, who just at that moment looked away from Uncle Tony and Aunt Francie and over at him. He tilted his head and lifted his eyebrow in just such a way that Frank knew meant, "Look what you did! It's amazing!"

He tore his eyes away and looked down at the table. He knew he was flushing, but before he could figure out what to say, Bob cut in.

"Then there was a big-ass gust of wind, the candles blew out, and you fainted like a girl."

"Do girls and boys faint differently?" Gerard asked, voice deceptively sweet.

"Uh, no? It's just an expression?" offered Bob weakly.

"You may want to consider the origins of phrases that get tossed around before you use them. You know, make sure you don't accidentally perpetuate outdated ideas about gender roles," suggested Gerard with a straight face. "I wouldn't want you sounding like an ass."

Everyone cracked up, even Bob.

When they settled down, Frank asked, "So hey, is the ballroom unhaunted now?"

"Yep. I already called Missy Hendricks. She's coming in as soon as we reopen to sign the contract for her wedding," Mikey said.

Frank drained the rest of his coffee and licked the last bits of lasagna off his fork. "I know I've been sleeping for days, but I gotta go back to bed. Reuniting long lost loves takes a lot out of a man. Someone wake me up for dinner."

"You sure you're okay?" asked Mikey.

"Tell Mikey he's fine. He just needs some more rest," said Aunt Francie to Gerard.

Gerard grinned, "Aunt Francie said to tell you he's fine, he just needs sleep."

"Well, if Aunt Francie says so, then it must be true," said Spencer. "Sleep well, Frank."

Frank stood. "Thanks. Hey, are you guys here for a while or do you have another job you have to get to?"

"Nothing pressing. We thought we'd stick around for at least another little bit, help get the ballroom back in shape," said Ray.

Geard added, "Plus, Mikey told us the annual reopening party is an event not to be missed, so. We're not gonna miss it."

Frank surreptitiously let out the breath he'd been holding. He was not going to think about Gerard leaving a moment before he had to.

"You're kind of a little gray there, man," said Brendon. "Maybe you should go back to sleep."

"Yeah. See you guys at dinner," said Frank and headed back to his rooms.

***  
Frank looked around the ballroom with a satisfied smile. It was beautiful. Their hard work had truly paid off. The place was sparkling clean and touched up and just stunning. The drapes were pulled back to let in the last light of the setting sun.

After everything that had gone down, they spent almost three days scrubbing. Mikey wanted to hire a cleaning crew, but for some reason, Frank felt it was necessary to do it themselves. This time. Next time was all housekeeping.

Aunt Francie had started a tradition years ago of hosting a party just before reopening. All employees, past and present, their families, friends, fellow business owners, members of the community, everyone was invited. To make it a real treat for the employees, she always hired caterers, wait staff, and cleaning staff for the next day. This was the first year it would be held in the ballroom instead of the lobby and dining room. 

Frank looked at his watch. Shit. Only twenty minutes to get showered and dressed. He practically ran back to his room, hoping everyone else was ready to go because he didn't have time to check on them.

He stepped out of the shower, tucked the towel around his waist, and went to his closet.

"Wear the black suit," someone said behind him, scaring the daylights out of him.

"Dammit, Francie!"

She laughed.

He complained, "Why do I have to wear a suit? I'm just gonna go with this." He gestured to the slacks and sweater in his hand.

"Don't you want to look good for Gerard?" Frank was _really_ sick of that knowing smile.

"Frank, wear the suit. You'll look handsome for your fellow," Tony said as he appeared.

"You too, Uncle Tony? Really?" Frank asked exasperatedly.

"Of course, Frank! You two are perfect for one another! Maybe you two will find love the way Francie and I did." His aunt and uncle made sappy eyes at each other.

Frank glared. "Never should've performed that damn ritual," he muttered.

"What was that, Frankie?"

"Oh, nothing, Aunt Francie. Do you guys mind giving me some privacy to get dressed? Please?"

"You'll wear the suit for Gerard?" Francie asked.

"I'll wear the suit. But not _for Gerard_." Frank rolled his eyes.

Tony winked at him. "You keep thinking that, son."

Francie's eyes were sparkling. "One thing and then we'll go. Have you given any thought to why the ritual worked? Maybe you can't lose your heart if you've already given it to someone. Just some food for thought."

"Go away!" Frank shooed at them and they went through a wall. Frank had asked them to do that when leaving a room instead of just disappearing. It made him feel better, even if there really wasn't a way to know for absolute certain they actually left.

He sighed, looked at his closet, and reached for the suit. He was at least going to wear the black shirt and burnt-orange colored tie. Halloween was less than two months away. Never too early to start celebrating.

The guests were starting to trickle in when he got back downstairs. He ran his hands through his hair a final time and went to greet them.

***

By all accounts, the party was a success. Frank had gotten lots of compliments on the restored ballroom. He left out the part where it wasn't exactly "restored" so much as "opened and dusted and de-ghosted."

Now, with the last of guests gone, Frank, Mikey, and Ray were collapsed around a table while Gerard and Bob were outside having cigarettes. Spencer sat on the piano bench next to Brendon, who was playing parts of songs and maybe some of his own and whatever came to mind. It was quiet but for the piano.

"You should ask him to dance when he comes back in," a voice next to Frank said.

He picked his head up off the table and looked over at a woman he didn't recognize. "What? Who--" he started when he realized, "Elena?"

She gave him a big smile and nod. Mikey and Ray had looked around when Frank spoke.

"Hi, Grandma," Mikey said to the room since he couldn't see her.

Elena smiled at him. "Hello, my darling boy."

"She says hi," Frank told Mikey.

"No, she didn't," Mikey disagreed. "What did she really say?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "She said, 'Hello, my darling boy'."

Mikey had a very satisfied smile on his face. "Okay, yes, she's definitely here."

"Can I call you 'darling boy'?" Frank asked.

"Fuck off, no. Only Elena."

"Frank?" Elena got his attention again. "You should ask Gerard to dance when he comes back in."

"Um," was all Frank said as he felt his face turn red. "I don't really..." He waved his hand in a way that maybe meant "dance" or "ask boys to dance" or "like brussels sprouts". He didn't even know.

"Ask him," Elena said as the door opened and Bob and Gerard came back in. Elena disappeared.

Gerard went over to the stage and said something that made both Brendon and Spencer laugh. Frank didn't look at anyone else as he got up and walked over there. He just wanted to see what was so funny.

He got there in time to hear Gerard ask Brendon to play "It's a Wonderful World."

And Frank had to. He didn't like to admit it, but that was one of his favorite songs. He turned to Gerard and held out his hand. "May I?" he asked.

Gerard laughed at him. "I would love to."

Frank was kind of prepared for some middle school dancing, arm's length apart and sort of shuffling, but Gerard put one hand on his shoulder, put Frank's on his waist, took his other hand, and pulled him close. They still mostly shuffled around though.

"Thanks for asking me to dance," Gerard said quietly. Frank shivered a little at Gerard's breath in his ear. "I wanted to earlier, but I chickened out," Gerard confessed.

"Well, I'm glad I did. But to be honest, it wasn't exactly my idea. Relatedly, I met Elena a little while ago," Frank told him.

Gerard's head dropped to Frank's shoulder. "Oh god. What did she say?" was Gerard's muffled question.

"Just told me to ask you to dance. And called Mikey her 'darling boy'."

Gerard huffed a laugh. "Yeah, she always called him that. That's all she said?" he asked as he straightened up.

"Yeah... What else would she have said?" Frank asked suspiciously. He was definitely missing something.

"Nothing!" Gerard insisted. "But I talked to Francie earlier too. She told me to ask Brendon to play this."

Frank was not surprised. "Figures. She's sort of been, uh, pushing me. She thinks that I...um, that I like you," he finished quietly.

Gerard pulled back to look at Frank. "Do you?" he asked, but just curiously. He gave no hint if that would be a good or bad thing.

Frank's face was bright red again. He could feel it. He looked down. "Um. Well, I--I mean, I..."

"'Cause I like you," Gerard told him.

Frank's head snapped up. "Really?"

Gerard snorted. "Yeah, kind of a lot actually. You couldn't tell? Mikey says I've been really obvious."

"I just kind of thought it was wishful thinking, I guess," Frank admitted.

They were both quiet for a moment, reveling in the other's admissions. And then Frank said, "So does that mean we can make out now?"

Gerard's laugh was loud enough to draw everyone else's attention, but Frank didn't care. He went up on his toes, pulled Gerard down to meet him, and had the best first kiss of his life. Sort of. The kiss itself wasn't great, since Gerard was still kind of laughing and then Frank was too since everyone else started cat-calling and whistling at them. But as a first kiss _experience_? Yeah, definitely the best.

They laughed and kissed again, slipping in just a little tongue, and the whistles and yelling got louder. And then Brendon somehow segued right into Salt-n-Pepa's "Let's Talk About Sex".

Frank pulled away. "Really?" he asked. "How the hell do you even _play_ that on a piano?"

"Like this!" Brendon said and started singing again.

"Oh my god," Gerard said. "We need to get out of here."

"My room?"

" _Yes_."

"Awesome."

They ignored everyone else as they ran out of the ballroom. No one else could see it, but Francie, Tony, and Elena watched them lovingly.

***

Epilogue:

Frank kicked his chair into yet another rotation, only to come to an abrupt halt.

"Dude, you have got to stop before I throw the chair out the window. With you in it."

Frank tipped his head back to look up at Bob looming over him. "I can see up your nose."

Bob raised his hand, but Frank pushed back from his desk, sending the chair rolling away from the swat Bob aimed at the back of his head. He came to a rest against the love seat where Mikey had curled up to look out the window overlooking the front of the inn.

"Is he here yet?" Frank clambered over Mikey to peer down to the drive. "Why isn't he here yet?"

"Get off me, you spazz," Mikey griped, ineffectively shoving at Frank. "They'll get here when they get here, so calm the fuck down."

Frank pushed at Mikey until he was comfortably situated nestled at his side. "Considering the situation, I think I'm pretty fucking calm. I bet you'd be even worse if you hadn't gotten laid -"

"OH MY GOD SHUT UP!" Mikey interrupted, clamping a hand over Frank's mouth. "He's my brother. I don't wanna hear that! You are such a douche!"

Frank wiggled away and smirked. "But the look on your face never gets old." 

Bob laughed. "True, true."

"I hate you both," said Mikey, glancing out the window again. "They're here!"

Frank ran for the door.

***

Frank paused at the bottom of the steps and took a deep breath. "Calm. I'm calm. I'm calm," he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, tugged his shirt hem down, and stepped into the lobby. Above him, he could hear Bob and Mikey entering the stairwell as the door closed behind him.

Forcing himself not to run again, Frank rounded the corner into the lobby and headed directly to the front door. It opened before he got there as Ray walked in, pulling a suitcase behind him.

Frank rushed over. "Where is he?" he asked impatiently.

"Well, hello to you, too," Ray said, letting go of his suitcase to pull him in for a hug.

"Ray!" Mikey shouted as he and Bob entered the lobby.

Ray released Frank to grab Mikey into bear hug. "Long time, no see. You ready to give up the boring life of hotel management to join us ghost hunting again?"

Mikey stepped back with a laugh. "You never get tired of asking, do you?"

"Never know when you might say yes," countered Ray.

Frank left them to it and headed for the door to find Gerard. Just as he got there, Gerard walked in, his arms full of boxes. "A little help here before I drop something?"

"More like before Frank tackles you to the floor. With his dick," Bob said, _sotto_ to Ray as they shook hands.

"I heard that!" Frank said with a smirk. "And you're not wrong."

Mikey made a face, even as joined Frank to help relieve Gerard of his cargo. "Eww. That's still my brother you're talking about."

"That's your brother I'll be do--" Gerard stopped Frank with a kiss.

Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard, resting one hand on the small of his back and tangling the other in his hair. The room dropped away, and it was just Gerard and him. Although they texted, talked, and Skyped daily, it couldn't replace the touching, smelling, and tasting they so frequently sacrificed for the sake of their jobs.

Gerard's hands cupped his ass and pulled him snug. Frank could feel Gerard already starting to harden through his jeans, and couldn't help but cant his hips in search of just a bit more sensation.

"I have a bucket of water, and I'm not afraid to use it!" came Bob's voice, cutting through the bubble around them.

Gerard broke away, laughing, so Frank took the opportunity to bury his face in Gerard's neck and breathe him in. He could feel something inside uncoiling, relieving the stress of separation Frank carried with him so constantly, he barely noticed it until it was gone. Even though he knew Mikey was waiting patiently to say a proper hello to his brother, he was reluctant step away.

"Frank," Aunt Francie laughed. "Let the boy be for a second. He's not going anywhere."

He forced himself to release Gerard's hair, and step out of the way to let him hug Mikey. "I know," he said ruefully, turning to her, "but it's been _so long_."

"You really want to complain to us about waiting?" Uncle Tony said, wrapping an arm around Aunt Francie's shoulder.

Frank shrugged. "Point, but a little empathy would be nice. I just don't know how you both managed for so many years."

Gerard hooked his chin over Frank's shoulder. Frank could feel his smile against his neck, "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Marinelli. How are you?"

Aunt Francie laughed. "Gerard. You're family. No one else has ever had a problem calling us Aunt Francie and Uncle Tony, so stop with the Mr. and Mrs. already."

Gerard smiled. "I'll try. But things are good?"

Tony pulled Francie a little closer. "Perfect, because of you two. We can't thank you enough."

"If you really want to show your appreciation," Frank said with an evil grin, "don't come into our rooms for the next oh, three or four days without knocking and waiting for the okay."

"And it never gets less annoying to hear half a conversation while he stares at empty air, even though I know Aunt Francie's there, and it's worse with Gee doing it, too," Mikey broke in loudly.

"Word," added Bob. "Although Ray's hair is kind of epic right now."

Frank waved a hand at them. "Sorry. It's not my fault our powers are superior to yours."

Aunt Francie laughed. "Frank, stop torturing your friends."

"Well, they can't have it both ways. Either they let us finally have alone time or they have to deal while I talk to you," said Frank.

"Alone time," Bob, Ray, and Mikey said in unison.

"Yes!" Frank pumped his fist in the air, then grabbed Gerard's hand, twining their fingers as he led him towards their rooms.

"We'll have Spencer leave you a high-protein dinner outside your door," Bob called after them.

"And a carafe of his awesome coffee, right?" asked Gerard.

Frank didn't hear the answer, if there even was one. He was too busy hauling ass towards privacy.

When they reached his door, Gerard spun him around and kissed him again. Frank was torn between losing himself in their embrace and the siren call of his king bed just a few feet away.

He wrenched himself away, yanked open the door, hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside, and tugged Gerard inside, throwing all the locks after him.

He knew they wouldn't keep everyone away for nearly long enough to satisfy him, but it would have to do. He had a list of everything he wanted to with Gerard and it started now.

He threw himself back into the kiss, finally content with where he was.


End file.
